The Stages of Conviction
by Cherylann Rivers
Summary: In the sequel to "The Secret Spaces," the Hardys must deal with the return of Alan Cotnig while a separate case threatens to tear the family apart. Everyone must learn to follow their own convictions as secrets get revealed, but at what cost? Further summary is inside. The story is completed and chapters will post every 3-4 days.
1. Chapter 1

_**Note** : I want to thank everyone in advance for reading and following this story, and especially for those of you who always take the time to leave reviews, which are so very much appreciated. I would like to thank max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, Guest, Paulina Ann, Laurie Q, and TinDog for your comments on "Altered Plans," which meant so much. I hope everyone will enjoy this story and drop a note! Feedback really does make a difference. _

_The completed story is 32 chapters long, and chapters will be posted every 4 days. The chapters are lengthy. This story is the most mature of my stories, as it deals with some big issues. There are some scenes and language that are mature in content (nothing is graphic, though) and I WILL give warnings on those chapters._

 _A sincere thank you to TinDog (an exemplary writer- check out her work!) for your support and encouragement to follow my own convictions with this story, even when I was a little hesitant to "go there." I'm glad did-it made the story; pulled it all together. To that end, I'd like to dedicate this story to TinDog, for inspiring me with her own amazing writing and challenging me to up my game, and to my fictional character Johnny, who made this whole story possible. :)_

 _As this story continues and probably completes the series of "First Encounters", "Alternate Plans", and "The Secret Spaces", there are several goals I hope to achieve. To that end, this story asks and answers the following questions: What happens when Frank and Joe are on opposite sides of a case, and each one is right in his own way? Can Joe always rely on instinct, and can Frank always rely on logic? Just how did Callie and Johnny become such close friends, and why was Frank always okay with it? What secrets unite and what secrets divide people? How would Frank and Joe's language, mannerisms, and behavior change around each other, their family, and their friends? What is the role of the media when truth is so easily distorted? I wanted to show how the Hardys grow up in as realistic a fashion as I could. Throw in two separate cases and the return of Alan Cotnig, and I present to you "The Stages of Conviction." Enjoy..._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 1

"Tell all the truth but tell it slant —  
Success in Circuit lies  
Too bright for our infirm Delight  
The Truth's superb surprise  
As Lightning to the Children eased  
With explanation kind  
The Truth must dazzle gradually  
Or every man be blind —"

-Emily Dickinson

"Perfect day!" twenty -five year old blond, blue -eyed Joe Hardy said out loud to himself as he opened up the window to let in the November air, unseasonably warm for this time of year. He was so excited about the day ahead. Any minute, his brother, Frank, sister- in-law Callie, and their son, JJ, would be coming over before splitting up again for a bit. Then, they'd all reconvene at his house for dinner, at which time several friends would be joining them for dessert and Game Night. He couldn't think of a better way to spend a Saturday.

Before he could give it more thought, his wife, Vanessa, who was four months pregnant, came bounding down the stairs, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. "Morning, honey. Are they here yet?" She looked over his shoulder out the front window.

"Not yet, babe," he answered returning the kiss and pulling her close. "But we can occupy the next several minutes just fine without them, methinks." He wiggled his brows at her playfully.

Vanessa laughed. "We don't have _that_ much time," she responded, giving him a final hug before sitting down on the loveseat.

Joe smiled, sat down next to her, and wrapped an arm around her, perfectly content as he felt her relax and lean her head against his shoulder.

"How are you feeling, babe?" he asked, kissing her cheek. Vanessa smiled as she looked up at him.

"Today's a good day. I swear, anything after the first trimester is heaven."

"Good," he answered, hugging her closer. Before he could go on, she sat up suddenly, and turned to him, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She started talking in her usual animated fashion, and he was struck again at how much he loved her; how beautiful she was. Whenever he thought of how close he had come to losing her on their last case, when she had been kidnapped along with Callie and their close friend, Johnny, who had been killed, he shuddered. It had been the worst time of his life.

"Can you believe how different my pregnancy has been from Callie's?" she asked him, eyes wide with wonder. "It's like we're from two different planets."

"I know," he agreed. "I guess it is kind of funny how different two women can be when they're both pregnant at the same time." He had to smile at the thought, thrilled that Callie and Vanessa were due within two weeks of each other at the end of April/ start of May. Vanessa stood 5'11' and was barely showing; Callie, who was a petite 5'3"-almost- was showing right away and looked much further along than she was. From the front, she looked tiny, but, when she turned to the side, her baby bump was definitely noticeable. Vanessa had experienced an awful first trimester with vomiting, morning sickness, nausea, and exhaustion. Callie had sailed through the first three months, but she had a long, rough road ahead if she repeated the pattern of her first pregnancy, when she had been diagnosed with anemia and Placenta Previa and, because of that and being given medicine that could have killed her, she had delivered JJ almost 8 weeks early.

"Yes! And I can't believe that, either," Vanessa went on. "She's my best friend and after everything that she went through with JJ, I can't even imagine wanting to get pregnant so quickly. I'm excited that we're doing it together this time, though."

"I think it was kind of an 'oops' if you want to know the truth," Joe responded with a laugh, "even though they're both thrilled."

"Oh, it was a definite 'oops' according to Callie," Vanessa agreed. She sat up at looked at her husband. "But I'm worried about her."

"Why?" Joe asked, concerned. "Did she say something to you?"

Vanessa shook her head. "No. But you know how dangerous this is for her. I think she's having some pain with this pregnancy even though she doesn't talk about it a lot. Plus, she's super busy with JJ and with Johnny's foundation and… I don't know…" she hesitated. "You know how we practically talk about everything? We still do, but she never says anything about that time… and…"

"That's not a bad thing, Van," he reminded her. "I hate to think about what happened, too."

"Me, too," she replied, sadly. "But I want to talk about it sometimes, you know?"

"I am ALWAYS here for you, baby. And whenever you need to talk, I need to listen. You know that I will. As far as Callie goes, I'll talk to her, Van. I promise," Joe replied, and squeezed her shoulders. Callie seemed to be doing great, but he knew she was dealing with a lot. Plus, Frank had called him yesterday and told him that Callie had been shaken up by something, but she had brushed it off when he had tried to talk to her. Knowing how close that he was to Callie, Frank had asked him to try to talk to her, and today was the perfect opportunity to do so.

"Thanks, Joe," she said with a smile. "I'm excited about today, but you don't think it'll be weird, do you?" She looked at him with her blue-grey eyes that always melted his heart.

"Well, Frank _is_ pretty weird, so you never know," he teased. "But you'll have the baby to distract you."

Vanessa rolled her eyes at Joe. "I'm serious!" she emphasized.

"Van, relax. This is FRANK. It's great that you're hanging out. I think it's awesome, to be honest. You'll both see that you're more than computer nerds," he replied.

Vanessa and Frank had always been friendly and enjoyed each other's company, but they weren't nearly as close as he was to Callie, though that relationship had taken years and years to cultivate. Deep down, he'd always wished that Vanessa could see how much fun his brother could actually be, despite his reserved demeanor; that she'd be privy to his dry sense of humor, his ability to be both super intellectual and completely one of the guys- he had so many dimensions. He'd also wished that Frank could see that Vanessa was actually more of a practical minded and thoughtful person than met the eye; that she was as smart as she was silly, and that she was as brave and tough as she was girly and ebullient. After Frank had rescued Vanessa in their last case, she had a newfound desire to know him further, especially since he was so close to both Joe and Callie. And today, they had decided to go baby furniture shopping and to have lunch together, taking JJ with them. Joe was thrilled.

"I guess you're right. I'm happy!" she replied and reached over to hug him again.

Not a moment later, the doorbell rang. Joe and Vanessa walked together and opened it, immediately ushering Frank and Callie in, whilst exchanging quick hugs and greetings.

Before Callie could even say hello, Joe had stolen JJ from her arms. "Hey buddy!" he said, kissing him on the cheek. JJ, so used to his uncle's presence, slipped easily into his arms and started smiling.

"Oh, boy," Frank said with a laugh. "He's not going to want to leave you now."

"Of course not," Joe said, answering Frank, but looking at his nephew. "Cause Uncle Joe is sooooo much cooler than daddy." He threw the baby in the air and caught him, causing JJ to laugh uncontrollably and Callie to almost have a heart attack.

"Joe!" she gasped, covering her heart, as he continued to laugh with the baby. Pretty soon, all four were laughing along as well, finding JJ's belly laugh and adorable little face irresistable.

"You know, he's crawling all over the place now… and he's even starting to stand up," Frank cautioned. "I hope you're saving up your energy to chase him all over the place tonight!"

"Cause he's so smart and so athletic like his uncle-right, buddy?" Joe asked JJ, kissing his cheek again.

"I cannot even imagine what you're going to be like as a dad if this is how you act as an uncle," Callie quipped dryly.

Joe winked at her. "I'm also gonna be the world's coolest dad, but don't worry. I'll give your dad lessons in how to be chill." He threw JJ up once more for effect as Callie looked the other way, horrified.

Frank sighed heavily and gently extricated his eight month old son from his brother's arms."Da da," JJ cooed and poked Frank in the nose before breaking into laughter again.

Frank smiled and gave JJ a kiss. "Let's go, Van. Ready? I'm not sure if it'll be a longer day with JJ when we're out or when we get back with him and he's with your husband over there."

"Ready!" Vanessa agreed. She turned to give Joe a quick hug. "See you in a bit!"

"Have fun!" Joe said as he opened the door, watching as Frank leaned down to give Callie a quick kiss.

"We will!" Vanessa said, and, moments later, they were gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

For a brief moment, Joe and Callie looked at each other before they both burst into laughter. She linked her arm through Joe's. "What's cookin', good lookin'?" she teased him as she led him into the kitchen and took a seat at the table.

"Your son is the happiest baby I've ever seen," Joe answered, sitting in the seat opposite her and offering her a cookie.

"No thanks," she said. "Watching my girlish physique. And yes- we're lucky. He's ALWAYS like that."

Joe smiled at her. "Me, too- I like to watch my girlish physique," he answered as he grabbed a cookie and munched on it. "So what do you wanna do? Just me and you, sis- and we have the whole afternoon! Football? As in, on TV- the Jets are playing on a Saturday, for once. I don't expect you to be up to tackle football yet," he joked.

Callie giggled, amused, as always, by Joe's antics. "Sure," she agreed amiably. "But then I might have to leave you at halftime to take a nap. Let me give you some parental advice, my friend. When God gives you a chance to nap, take it. There is no tired like new parent tired. Trust me."

"That's fine with me," he agreed. "We have a long day. You SHOULD rest. Come on." He grabbed some more cookies and motioned for Callie to follow him into the living room, where he promptly flipped on the tv, waiting for the game to start. Taking advantage of the moment, he turned down the volume for a bit.

"So- how ya feeling?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "Okay. Tired. Otherwise, can't complain. I'm so happy that Van is feeling better, finally. I've been lucky like that. I never really had morning sickness."

Joe smiled fondly at Callie. Only she would say that. "Lucky?" he asked. Then, he added, "Vanessa is so excited that you'll be due the same time. Crazy, huh?"

"Honestly, Joe, I don't want to break her heart. I just don't have it in me to tell her that there's no way I'll make it that far."

She said it so matter- of -factly that he was almost taken aback. Keeping his expression neutral, he asked, "Why not?"

Callie sighed. "I have a lot going against me here. I'm not complaining at all- it's just a fact." She rested her hand on her stomach. "Once you have my condition, you'll probably get it again. Plus, I didn't gain nearly enough weight the first time with JJ, and I didn't wait the 18 months to 2 years to get pregnant again. And..." Her voice cut out a bit before she continued, "sometimes I get a little worried. I get these cramps a lot. The doctors are a little concerned." She brushed it off, obviously not wanting to think about it. "There are other things, but those are the major ones. It's fine. I just need to get to 36 weeks- that's my goal. If I do, I'll be thrilled. Those were tough weeks after JJ was born."

"You'll get there," he assured her. "Just take good care of yourself and relax."

Callie smiled. "Joe, I have an 8 month old. There's no such thing as 'relax'."

"Isn't it weird that you're a mom?" he asked, impulsively. "I still think of you as my occasionally fun, pain- in -the -ass sister." He winked at her.

"Well, you're going to be a dad, and that's ridiculous," she retorted. "Because you'll always be my pretty wild, dumbass brother."

Joe snorted, not expecting that answer. He laughed and sat up straighter. "Yeah, what's wrong with the world when we become parents?" he asked, wistfully. "I wonder if there's any saving grace."

Simultaneously, they both replied, "Frank," and then looked at each other, again surprised how in sync they had been in recent years.

"Do you think you'll find out this time if you're having another boy or a girl?" he asked her, enjoying her company.

"No way," she answered. "That moment when you give birth and find out is the most beautiful minute of your life," she added, wistfully. "It really is. What about you and Van?"

"December 15th," he answered. "Literally, a month from today. Van's got the appointment booked already."

Callie's face broke out into a huge smile that lit up her face. "I can't believe she didn't tell me! So cool!"

Joe couldn't help smiling, too. "She made the appointment yesterday," he answered. "I'm sure she'll tell you later, so act surprised, okay?"

"I've missed talking to you, Joe," Callie said, sincerely. "There's no time for anything anymore."

"Cal, can I ask you something?" he inquired, figuring he might as well get to the point and check on her.

"You just did," she teased him, but added, "Of course."

"Are you okay? Really? Frank's worried about you. He said you had a rough day yesterday," he told her, honestly.

She looked shocked. "Frank told you that?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes, he did," Joe answered her calmly, meeting her dark eyes. "He's just worried- you know him. He keeps your confidences almost all the time, as he should, but he reached out to me yesterday and asked me to check on you. And don't even think of getting mad at him about it-we both know that no one loves you more than my brother."

Callie let out a small sigh and instinctively crossed her arms. Joe saw right away what Frank meant based on her body language. "Joseph, I'm fine. I told you. I'm just tired, but otherwise all is great."

"Frank says you've been really busy with the nonprofit you guys set up for Johnny," he went on, not relenting. "How's that going?" Callie had quit her full time job and took on a new one as head of the foundation, where she was able to put her literature, writing, and marketing degrees to use. Plus, it afforded her the opportunity to work from home when she needed to so she could stay with JJ.

He watched her face soften a bit. "It's good, you know? I feel like this is what I was meant to do. Frank and I have hired the staff and things are going great. It's so important to me that Johnny is remembered… that his name is always associated with goodness and generosity. I… I hope he'd be proud of that." Her voice broke a little and he saw it. THAT was what this was about, and he understood immediately what he knew Frank couldn't.

"He would have been so proud of you, Cal," Joe said softly, leaning towards her. "Have you talked to anyone about this? About what you went through? It helps sometimes."

He watched as Callie's posture changed; saw her stiffen. "I'm fine, Joe."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Stop playing detective with me," she answered defensively. "There's nothing to say. I've dealt with it."

"No, you haven't," he countered. He wasn't afraid to challenge her, because he knew it's what he had needed, so many years ago, and she had been one of the people to give him a dose of reality when he had needed it. He loved her enough to play hardball.

"Joe, knock it off, please," she said, and stood up.

"Don't you run!" he cautioned her, reaching for her arm.

"Stop! Just leave me alone about it!" she responded, raising her voice. But he saw the tears in her eyes.

"Callie," he said, "I won't stop. I GET it." He softened his voice, but didn't let go of her arm. He did, though, change his tactic. "Cal, I have a pretty great life, right?" he asked her. "I have a gorgeous wife who I love more than life, a great family, a solid job, pretty good health. I mean, things are good, right?"

He saw that he had caught her off guard. "Yes," she replied with hesitation.

"Well, guess what? Sometimes, despite all that, and even all these years later, I still get nightmares about what happened with Iola. I'll still see something that reminds me of her and I'll feel my stomach churn. Because no matter what people say, no matter what I logically know to be true, I still feel guilty. And I know you do, too."

Callie turned the other way, covering her mouth with her hand. He saw tears slide from her eyes. "I don't want to cry today," she managed.

Joe released her hand and pulled her into a hug, gently rubbing her back. "I DO feel guilty," she murmured quietly into his shoulder.

"I know. And you shouldn't. Neither should I. But I DO understand," he comforted her. "What happened yesterday?" he asked.

Slowly, Callie pulled away from him and sat down on the sofa. Joe sat next to her and held her hand. "It's so stupid," she said at last, quietly, still wiping at her eyes. He handed her a tissue from the coffee table, which she gratefully accepted. "Thank you," she managed.

"Tell me anyway," he encouraged her.

She squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. "I was about to take JJ for a walk around the block in his carriage, but then I remembered- he's still out there," she said softly. Joe inhaled sharply. Neither Vanessa nor Callie mentioned Cotnig's name often, but it was true- he had not yet been apprehended, and he and Frank were acutely aware of the danger that posed to all of them. Joe knew would find him one day- and he prayed it was one day soon-and he would make him pay. "And I got scared," she went on.

"Of course, Cal. That makes sense."

"No, you don't understand," she said, meeting his eyes, still wiping at her own. "I… I feel so ashamed about how scared I was when- it- was happening," she added, voice shaking. "And then, just when I was feeling brave enough to go out with my baby, I heard a car backfire." She stopped, the tears falling again.

"Go on," Joe said gently, squeezing her hand. "It's okay, sis."

"Oh, Joe," she answered."God, it was like I was back there. I heard the car but I kept seeing the gun and hearing the shot. And I see Johnny jumping in front of me and I hear his scream. It was like..." Her breathing was uneven, and she started trembling as her voice cut out. "Is this my fault, Joe?" She looked up at him, her eyes begging him for absolution.

Joe released her hand and hugged her tightly, his own eyes burning with unshed tears. "No, Callie. It's not," he said in a low voice. "And you should feel no shame about being scared. You almost died, Cal. You almost lost JJ. You DID lose Johnny. You lived through hell, even worse than what Van went through, and that was a nightmare." She continued to cling to him, her face buried against his shoulder.

"Cal," he went on, gently. "Vanessa has nightmares, too. Did you know that?"

"No," she whispered.

"I have them, too, sometimes."

She nodded against him. Yes, she had nightmares. He really had no idea. She held tighter to him.

"And while I haven't slept with Frank in about 20 years, I bet he has them, too. You should have seen him when he thought he'd lost you." Gently, he pushed Callie back and cupped her face with his hands, making her meet his eyes. "Cal, let my brother help you. Talk to him. He understands more than you think he does. And he loves you- _adores_ you- he always has. I needed him when I lost Iola. You need him now. Know that you have Vanessa and me to talk to - _always-_ but you and Frank have been a team for a long, long time. He won't let you down. I promise you that."

She took a deep breath. "You're right," she finally acquiesced. And he was, more than he knew. Frank had always been her confidante; knew her better than anyone.

"And we all loved Johnny," Joe added. "You know that. He would be so upset to see you this way. That's the thought that gets me through when I feel like you do- that Iola would have hated that I feel this way. That's when I change my mindset. We will all work to protect Johnny's legacy, but remember the person, Cal. The guy was crazy about you. And you know he would have loved your kids. So you need to take care of JJ and that new little one. Deal?"

"Deal," she agreed and drew in a shaky breath before wiping away her last tears. She leaned forward and kissed Joe on the cheek. "Thank you, Joe. I love you."

"I love _you_ ," he answered and sat back. "You nasty witch."

Callie laughed. "You're such an idiot," she answered. "But thank you again". She stood up and then leaned down again for a final, quick hug. "You're the brother I never had."

"Or wanted," he added with a sparkle in his eyes.

She shook her head, a wry smile on her pretty face. "I'm going to rest now, okay? Watch your game. Sorry I made you miss some of it."

"Women," Joe replied gruffly.

She ruffled his hair. "Annoying little boys," she quipped as she ran to the stairs, and Joe threw a couch pillow after her as she disappeared.

"Sisters," he said quietly to himself, and he smiled softly.

He flipped on the game. Maybe, at last, things would finally get back to normal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note** : _Thank you to those reading and following the story. Special thank you to BMSH, BeeBee18, Andrea, Guest, LaurieQ, EvergreenDreamweaver, TinDog, Hero76, hlahabibty, max2013, and Penlew for your reviews, which were much appreciated._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 2

Later that night, Joe and Vanessa's house was filled with company as everyone grabbed snacks and drinks and played with the various games in the living room while talking, laughing, and catching up. Pat Merkel and his girlfriend were challenging Biff Hooper and his girlfriend in Wii Fit Plus tennis, and they both looked so ridiculous swatting the control rackets in the air that everyone kept mocking them. Chet was challenging Tony to a pizza eating contest, and their partners were turning away in mock disgust. Everywhere Joe looked, his friends were hanging around and relaxing.

Of course, the biggest hit of the night was JJ, who had started the evening crawling all over the place so quickly that Joe had jokingly decided that, as with everything he did, there should be a competition, so Biff had orchestrated the first Game Night Crawl off, where Joe had just narrowly beaten his nephew. JJ did manage to beat Chet, who was mercilessly teased about it. But now, JJ lay asleep, despite the noise, in Callie's arms, as she sat cuddled next to Frank, who had his arm firmly around her, and next to Liz, who was lamenting the failure of her latest relationship.

He smiled. Life was good.

He felt Vanessa come up to him slip her hand into his. He looked at her and kissed her cheek, realizing that this was the first time today he had actually gotten a chance to speak with her. "Hey. Joe Hardy can throw a party, right?" he asked her, eyes twinkling.

"Ever the poet," Vanessa replied with a smile and squeezed his hand.

"Did you have fun today hanging with my big brother?" he asked her, more hopeful than he would have liked to admit.

"I really did," Vanessa answered, and Joe let out a small breath he hadn't even realized that he'd been holding.

"Good," he replied, pleased. "I'm glad you two are bonding. What'd you talk about?"

"Oh, you know- astrophysics; the meaning of life. When we had a small break in conversation, we decided to analyze 1 _984's_ "The Theory and Practice of Oligarchical Collectivism." We wanted to start small." She kept a straight face. "What did you and Cal talk about?"

"Beer. And farting," he answered equally seriously.

"That's about right. Yeah," she responded, finally dissolving into laughter. "I don't know! Frank's a little shy- he always has been. But you know what? He's really smart. And he's funny; he really is. And let me tell you…" she paused for a moment as Joe listened, attentive. "He is the most amazing dad, Joe. He's so good with the baby. And he talks about Callie a lot. I just love how he loves her so much. And then, you know, he's sweet and personable and pretty helpful. We got the whole nursery set picked out."

Joe felt his heart swell with happiness. The day was getting better and better. "Shall I assume you ordered obnoxious paint colors to spruce the room up for our kid?" he queried, eyes dancing.

"Not yet, babe. Once we find out what we're having, then you can go crazy with the paint colors. All yours." She kissed his cheek. "How was the day with Callie? Did you talk?" She looked so hopeful.

"We did," he answered, releasing her hand and wrapping an arm around her waist. "You were right. She needed to talk. It's all good now. Promise."

"Well, it seems to be," she said softly. She motioned to the couch, where Liz had started talking animatedly to Stephanie, and where Frank and Callie were speaking quietly and had eyes only for each other. "I don't know what you said, but I'm sure you've made them both happy. You always do, babe. Thanks for interfering."

"I prefer 'intervening', but you're welcome," Joe replied easily, with a wink.

They stood together, observers for a bit at their own party, and enjoyed the feeling of closeness, of being on the same team with those they loved so much.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On Monday, Joe kicked back at Frank's desk at the detective agency that they ran with their father, internationally known private investigator, Fenton Hardy, and waited for his brother to arrive. He wanted to check with him about how things had gone with Callie before their dad arrived for the daily update at 9:00.

When Frank walked into his office at 8:15, he was shocked to see his brother there. Frank looked at his watch. "Did Daylight Savings Time go into effect again, because you couldn't possibly be early." He looked questioningly at his brother before swatting Joe's feet off his desk and sitting on the chair behind it.

"Good to see you too, big brother," Joe joked.

Frank just sighed before breaking out into a long lasting cough. When the cough subsided, Frank just rubbed his eyes which, Joe noticed, were glassy and red. "What are you doing in my office?" Frank asked as he grabbed a bottle of water from behind the desk and took a long sip.

"I WAS rifling around to find the update on the Bill Daniels' file," Joe responded. Daniels was the half brother of Alan Cotnig and the former head writer on Criminal Hunters who had been instrumental in helping Cotnig infiltrate the set and orchestrate the kidnappings. Though he was apprehended, the trial had not yet begun, and Joe had wanted to triple check the paperwork to make sure that Daniels would be locked up for the remainder of his days. "But I also wanted to see how things went with Callie. Now, I want to see if you're okay. You look awful."

Frank gave a small smile."It's these stupid fall allergies. I was outside all yesterday and before we visited you and Vanessa on Saturday doing yard work, and they're killing me. Headache, cough, runny eyes, runny nose. Ugh," he finished. "Allergies suck."

"I think you're out for the Sexiest Man of the Week," Joe replied with a smirk, relieved that allergies were the only cause for Frank's misery. Frank had had fall and spring allergies since he'd been a kid, which was a real pain during football and baseball seasons. He had managed to combat it with the right combination of nose sprays and allergy medication, but eventually he seemed to have outgrown them. The last two years they had been back with a vengeance. "You're getting old."

"And YOU are terrible medicine," Frank replied. "Anyway, what's new?" He wiped at his eyes with a tissue. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, he took out a bottle and popped two Tylenols into his mouth.

"You don't have to cry…" Joe teased.

"Joe!" Frank exclaimed, exasperated. He felt sick and he was exhausted, having stayed up to help Callie with the baby.

"JJ up all night again?" Joe asked."I love that your kid is a night owl like his uncle."

Frank smiled in spite of himself. "WAIT," he cautioned. "Just wait, little brother. It's all fun and games now- like, I don't know- Game Night Crawl Off?!- but when your kid comes along, suddenly the 'no sleep, always worried, feed the baby, change the diaper, check the monitor thing' gets real old, real fast. And when the kid is yours, you can't give him back. Remember that."

"Well then, who's the dumb one?" Joe asked, leaning forward. "You're doing it again!"

"Says YOU, whose wife wants ten kids!" Frank shot back.

At that moment, Fenton strolled into Frank's office which had become the apparent meeting spot for the day. "Morning, boys. I see you're off to a calm and peaceful start to the day!" he said with a smile. Turning to Frank, he asked, "You okay?"

"Allergies," Frank answered, and Fenton just nodded. "Want coffee, boys?" he asked. "I'll get some for you before we discuss the agenda."

Joe accepted and Frank declined as their father said that he'd be back in a few minutes.

"So is Callie talking to you now?" Joe asked, trying to finish the conversation before their father returned.

Finally, a genuine smile appeared on Frank's face. "Yes. Thanks, Joe. She told me everything and how much you helped her. She does love you, for some weird reason," he teased. "It's just that this nonprofit means so much to both of us, but especially to her. She's so passionate about making sure that Johnny is remembered in the right light; that his life wasn't marred by the circumstances of his death."

"I know. And she'll be great," Joe replied earnestly.

Frank cleared his throat several times and took some small sips of water before answering. "Van was fun, too, by the way."

Before he could continue, the phone in his office rang. Still fighting the cough, he motioned for Joe to pick up the phone. Joe hit the speaker button as his father returned to the room.

"Hardy and Sons Investigations," he answered.

"Frank?" an unfamiliar voice sounded. Frank was still clearing his throat but managed to croak out, "No. That's Joe. I'm here. What's up, Don?" Don Anllow was the head lawyer for the Jonathan Gellers Foundation for the Arts which had been established only three months ago and which, thanks to Callie's marketing and outreach programs, was flourishing.

"Frank, I have some really bad news," he said seriously. "You may need to sit down."

Joe looked at his brother, concerned, as his coughing was getting worse. Even Fenton gently put a hand on his back. Frank motioned for Joe to speak into the phone for him.

"This is Joe Hardy, sir. We're all here- Frank, me, and our father. What's this in reference to?" He didn't bother getting personal information. Frank obviously knew the guy.

The lawyer took a deep breath. "Okay. I hate to be the one to tell you this. Jack Johnson was the director for the play that John Gellers was prepping for when he was working on Criminal Hunters. The play was postponed after John's death, but has since been in production and set to open, funded by the agency, in the spring. Yesterday, Jack was murdered- stabbed multiple times- in the back of the theater. They have the kid who they think did it."

"Oh my god," Joe said unconsciously.

"That's not the worst part," the lawyer went on. "Next to his body, there painted in blood on the wall, it said, "John Gellers, this is for you." The press is all over this. You need to get to the theater right away."

"They got the guy?" Joe asked again.

"Yes," the lawyer went on. "But it's complicated. And if it is what I think it is, it's going to be a huge publicity nightmare to destroy John Gellers' reputation. Please hurry." He hung up.

Joe looked up and saw his father holding onto Frank, deeply concerned. Frank's face was red and he appeared to be struggling to breathe.

"Son! Frank! What's wrong?" Fenton asked, making Frank sit down immediately.

Frank's breathing was ragged and he was clutching his stomach in pain. "I can't breathe," he mouthed, terror filling his eyes, as he managed to moan and his eyes started rolling back.

"No! Joe- Call 9-1-1!" Fenton ordered.

Joe managed to make the call with shaking hands and then helped to lay Frank down. Fighting tears, Joe held back panic as he saw his brother turning blue, now unconscious.

He went to start mouth to mouth resuscitation with his father, but choked himself when he noticed no air was going down. "Dad?" he cried out.

"I don't know, Joe. Keep trying." Fenton's calm voice was belied by his profuse sweating and shaking hands.

Within minutes, EMTs arrived and, somehow with their equipment, managed to get a tube down Frank's throat, but just barely.

Joe's heart was pounding as he watched his brother being worked on, and, before he knew it, Frank was being lifted on a stretcher and rushed to the ambulance. One of the EMTs stayed behind for a moment.

"How long was he unresponsive?" the EMT, a young man of about 30, asked.

"I don't know. 4- 5 minutes maybe before you arrived," Fenton said grimly. "But I think he was getting oxygen for at least some of the time."

"Okay. That's helpful," the medic acknowledged. "Let's hope so, because every minute without oxygen is a bad minute. His throat was incredibly swollen. We see this in severe allergic reactions. Does he have any known allergies at all?"

Fenton rubbed his temples. "Ah, yes. He's allergic to aspirin and penicillin, but that's about it. I don't think- I mean, he hasn't taken those since he's a kid. That's how we found out."

"Okay, follow me in your car. We should arrive at Bayport General within 7 minutes." He turned and rushed away.

"Dad?" Joe asked in a shaking voice as he ran towards the door with his father behind him. "How did this happen? He was FINE 20 minutes ago."

"I don't know," Fenton replied, as he hopped into his car and opened the lock for Joe to enter on the passenger side. "But call Callie and your mom and Vanessa right away, and in that order. Tell them to get to the hospital immediately."

As they started to speed off following the ambulance, Joe started to dial Callie's cell phone as he realized the gravity of what he was about to tell her. Hearing her voice on the end of the phone, so light and sweet, made his stomach drop.

"Cal? Meet me at Bayport General. Frank's hurt…"

The silence was deafening.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** _Thank you to everyone reading ad following the story, and especially those of you who were so kind to leave reviews on chapter 2, which are very much appreciated: Paulina Ann, Caranath, LaurieQ, BeeBee18, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver and Hero76._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 3

At the hospital, tensions were tight in the waiting room. Joe sat nervously bouncing his leg up and down, Vanessa spoke quietly with Laura, and Fenton sat stoically, hands crossed on his lap, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. They had been waiting less than a half hour.

Finally, Callie arrived, trying to balance JJ in one arm with a diaper bag over her shoulder. Immediately, Laura and Vanessa ran to her, Laura gently reaching for the baby to offer Callie some relief and Vanessa to give her a hug.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to retain her composure. "I… had to get JJ up from a nap and I grabbed everything as fast as I could. Where's Frank? What happened?" She was trying to breathe evenly and fight tears.

Vanessa motioned Joe over, and, when Callie met his eyes, he offered her a small smile and explained everything he knew. Watching her, he could see how hard she was trying to hold it together and his heart ached for her. And, as though he could sense how distraught his mother was, JJ burst into tears and started wailing.

Trembling, Callie walked over to Laura and reached for her son.

"No, honey. I've got him," Laura comforted her, but Callie shook her head and reached for him. Laura reluctantly let go, worried for both Callie and Frank.

Callie held JJ and, almost immediately, he settled down. "Mamamama," he kept sounding.

"Mommy's here, JJ. It's okay," she whispered as he snuggled close to her. Joe sighed and slipped an arm around Callie's shoulders. He knew she needed to hold JJ close, as if a part of Frank was with her then. "It's okay, sis," he whispered in her ear, and she just nodded.

Moments later, an older doctor appeared. "Frank Hardy's family?"

"Yes," Fenton replied, as Joe held Callie closer.

"I'm Doctor Smythe. He's fine," the doctor started, and Joe let out a deep breath and watched as a single tear escaped Callie's eye.

"What happened?" Fenton asked.

"We gave Frank an injection of epinephrine, two, actually, guessing that he had a major allergic reaction to something; that's usually our first line of defense. It worked immediately; the swelling went down in his throat and he started breathing on his own again. Based on the information that was provided to the EMTs, we tested him for both penicillin and aspirin. It turns out, based on the results, that he had ingested enough aspirin to cause a severe reaction," he stated calmly.

"What? Why would he do that?" Joe asked, perplexed. "He doesn't take aspirin at all. Do you have it at your house?" he asked Callie.

She took a shaky breath and cradled JJ against her. "Yes," she responded. "For emergencies. But it's not even in our bathroom. It's in the medicine cabinet in the guest bathroom."

"Could he have taken it by accident?" Fenton asked her, concerned.

"I don't know," she replied, still shaken. "I guess so. We've both been up crazy hours. Maybe he was tired and didn't realize it? I… I don't know."

"Can you check?" Fenton asked gently.

Callie nodded. "Of course. As soon as I get home."

"Excuse me," the doctor interrupted, "but you may want to check other sources as well. A normal dosage of aspirin is 100 milligrams per adult. Frank had close to 400 milligrams. For a person _without a_ n allergy to it, 200-300 milligrams is considered toxic, and 500 milligrams is considered potentially lethal, if that gives you some indicator of how serious this was."

Laura gasped and Vanessa started wringing her hands. Callie turned very pale, and Joe gently reached for JJ, who had been falling asleep anyway, and took him from Callie, kissing his head instinctively.

"You said he's okay, though?" Callie asked.

"Yes, but he's going to be in rough shape for several days," the doctor answered. "He'll have a sore throat because of the tubing. We ran blood tests and he had a chest x-ray and EKG, because his heart rate is extremely inconsistent due to both the aspirin and the epi-pen injections. We had to give him two, which is very rare, because his reaction was so severe. Via IV, we are giving him potassium salt and sodium bicarbonate, which help to remove the aspirin that was ingested. If he hadn't gotten here so quickly, we would be having a very different conversation right now," the doctor reminded them. "Expect him to be weak and nauseated, shaky, and feeling short of breath for a few days; he may even experience some chest pain and weakness."

"When can he leave?" Joe asked.

"Oh, by the end of the day, he should be good to go. He has to take it easy for up to a week, though. These symptoms should subside, but they do so gradually," he replied.

"Can I see him?" Callie asked, anxious.

"Of course. He's in the ICU. The baby can't go in," he cautioned, "but the rest of you can. No more than two at a time, please," he reminded them. "I'm here if you need me- just tell the nurses and they'll have me paged. He's very lucky." With a small nod, he left them.

"Go," Laura encouraged Callie, who, almost by instinct, had reached for Joe's hand.

Fenton walked to Joe and took his napping grandson in his arms, unable to stop a small smile from forming as he looked at him. "Go, Callie."

"You can come with me," Callie said, squeezing Joe's hand. He looked at her fondly, knowing she understood how much he needed to see Frank. "I'd love that. Thanks," he replied, rubbing her hand. "We won't be long," he assured his parents and Vanessa.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once inside the room, Joe was relieved to find Frank awake, if groggy and very pale. Joe watched as Callie glided towards him, bent to kiss his lips softly, and simply took his hand, wordlessly.

"I'm okay, honey," Frank said softly, voice hoarse, offering her a weak smile and looking in her eyes as she brushed his hair lightly off his forehead with her free hand.

Joe hated to interrupt the tender moment, but, at the same time, he had to. It was his duty. He walked to the other side of Frank's bed, crossed his arms, and looked down at him. "I'm going to avoid kissing you on the lips, bro, but I AM glad to see you," he joked.

Frank turned to Joe, shook his head, and sighed, still holding onto Callie's hand. "Hey, Joe. Your timing is impeccable," he croaked out, grimacing as he spoke.

"There are other ways to get out of a staff meeting," Joe kidded him, but his eyes never left Frank, studying him closely to ensure he was really okay.

Frank ignored him. "I gotta get out of here," he grumbled. "Gotta go to the theater."

"What?" Callie and Joe asked at the same time.

Then, it dawned on him what his brother meant. "Frank, who WAS that guy?" he asked.

"Don Anllow. Lawyer," Frank coughed out.

"What about Don?" Callie asked, totally confused, but Joe saw the look that Frank quickly shot at him and shut his mouth. Okay- Frank didn't want Callie to know right now. Fine with him.

"Just a quick visit that Frank had to make today," Joe cut in easily. "I'll take it, Frank. I'll go with dad if need be. You just rest. It's been a rough day for you. I'll visit you tonight at your house and fill you in, okay?"

Callie shot him a look, but then sighed. "I have no idea what Frank is talking about, or why you're covering for him," she stated, directly, "but I'm too emotionally exhausted even to care right now. You-" she said to Joe, "do what you need to do and then, fine- come over tonight. But call first, and if Frank needs to sleep, then let him." She then turned to her husband. "And you scared me to death," she said, voice shaking. "You're killin' me, babe. I'll let your parents in and I'll wait here until you're discharged." She bent slightly and leaned her forehead against his. "I love you." She turned with a small smile and left the room.

"Joe, take care of her," Frank mumbled, tired and irritable from all the medicine.

"I always do," Joe answered reassuringly, and sat on the chair next to Frank's bed. "Now listen. What the hell happened? Since when do you take aspirin? That was scary, Frank."

Frank shrugged, eyes heavy. "No idea," he said in a low voice.

"Not at home? I mean, did you mix up allergy medication? You need to know so this doesn't happen again. Come on- I'll help."

Frank shook his head weakly. "No. I only took Zyrtec last night and Tylenol in work," he managed. Then, sitting up slowly, and stifling a groan, he grabbed Joe's arm. "Joe. Gotta get to the theater. Johnny…"

"Calm down," Joe said gently. "Okay. I'll take care of it. I promise. And I guess I won't tell Callie."

"Not yet," Frank responded. "Let me see what's going on."

Joe agreed. "You rest. I'll stop at your house later and check out the Zyrtec and I'll stop at the office and check out the Tylenol. Then, I'll go to the theater and meet this guy. And I'll ask Van and mom to take JJ home, because- trust me- Callie needs a break. She's tough, Frank, but this is a lot."

"Thanks," Frank said with a small smile. "There are times when I don't actually want to kick your ass," he mumbled, half-closing his eyes.

A laugh escaped Joe's lips. "As if you could," he had to say. Then, seeing how exhausted his brother was, his expression softened as Frank closed his eyes. "I'll call you and let you know as soon as I hear, okay?"

"Mmmm hmmm," Frank murmured.

"Love you," he said quietly to him as he turned to leave, and smiled when he saw Frank give him a small thumbs-up before, finally, succumbing to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As he left the hospital a half hour later, Joe called the lawyer back, explained what had happened, and agreed to meet him in his office, instead of the theater, since so much time had passed. Close to 25 minutes later, he arrived at an old, grand Victorian house. He checked the GPS again- sure enough, it was the address that the lawyer had given him.

As he exited the car, Joe finally saw that the home was attached to a small office on the side which read, "Donald Anllow, Esq." in gold letters. He knocked at the door, entered, and was greeted immediately by a middle- aged brunette woman who sat behind a desk.

"Mr. Hardy?" she asked him.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "That's me. Feel free to call me Joe. Mr. Hardy is my father."

"Okay, then, Joe. Mr. Anllow is expecting you. First door on the left."

Thanking her, Joe made his way to the door and opened it when he heard, "Come in!" He noticed at once that the room was large and exactly what the stereotypical lawyer's office would look like: big mahogany desk, shelves of books, degrees and awards on the wall. Don Anllow, himself, looked like a lawyer: well- dressed, distinguished with fading blonde hair and blue eyes, good posture. He also, though, had a kind manner about him, a welcoming smile that Joe didn't often see when he was in court battling the bad guys.

"Joe?" he asked, reaching out to shake Joe's hand. "Hmmm. Well, your coloring is different, but you certainly do resemble your brother. He's a fine, very smart young man. How is he?"

"Yes he is, thank you. He's hanging in there," Joe answered, taking a seat as the lawyer motioned him to do so. "May I ask what's going on?"

"Certainly," he began. "Please call me Don, by the way."

"Will do," Joe agreed.

"We have a very grave situation here, Joe," Don began. "Prior to his death, John Gellers was both working as the lead actor on Criminal Hunters and prepping for an off Broadway play. After he died, production on both shows all but shut down; it's still shut down on the TV show as the new staff - and it's ALL new staff-" he said sternly, "try to replace John. The play was also stopped, but, when your brother and his wife were finally able to establish the JGF, some funds went back into production, as the play was very special to John and Callie thought he would have wanted to see it go through."

"Okay," Joe nodded. "Seems pretty straightforward to me."

Don agreed. "It was. The director, Jack, was a good friend of John's, and it meant a lot to him, too. Things seemed to be going very well until early Sunday, when his body was discovered. It was grisly- he had been stabbed multiple times. In addition to the absolute horror of the murder, we have to be cautious, because of the message in blood that read, "John Gellers, this is for you."

"What does that even mean?" Joe asked, curious.

The lawyer shrugged. "I don't know. Whether it means the murder was done FOR John Gellers by someone with an obsession with him or AGAINST John Gellers, as in "revenge for you," we don't yet know. But either way, it's clearly not good."

"I don't get it," Joe confessed. "Who would have an issue with Johnny? He is... he _was,"_ Joe corrected himself, "one of the nicest, most selfless people I've ever met." He felt himself getting angry. Johnny didn't deserve any wrongdoing that would mar his name.

"That's my point," Don went on. "And the whole purpose of this agency is to preserve John's name. But already the press is all over this, as though John was involved in some deep, dark secret organization or underground something or other which ultimately led to his death, and now anything associated with him seems to be tainted. Minimally, it's a scandal of some sort. I don't have many details, but I have a bad feeling about this."

"But that's not true!" Joe raised his voice, flushed. "Johnny was a hero. He died protecting my wife and my sister- in-law."

"All true," Don replied evenly. "But since when do truth and journalism go together anymore? The papers never told the whole story accurately of what happened to John. They sensationalized the whole thing about a serial killer- dragged your dad's name through the mud, though he was the victim, tried to smear the Bayport PD. It's all part of the anti-law enforcement sentiment in the country. Some news outlets covered it the opposite way- made John a tragic hero, a James Dean, cut down in the prime of his life. That's more accurate… but still not the whole truth. John was hardly a rebel without a cause. And some- very few- media outlets had the integrity to print the truth. But perception is reality, Joe. Now everyone is obsessed with John Gellers- the incredibly talented, gorgeous, rich young man who is now somehow associated with bad things. And we need to stop that."

"But- I mean, didn't you say they caught the person? Who did this? Why?" Joe asked, exasperated.

"Yes and no," Don replied. "They found the person. It was a young kid, maybe 19, who was covered in blood and is guilty as hell. He was right by the body of Johnson. But he's claiming that he didn't do it; has no recollection whatsoever of the events. He says he loved Johnson and respected John immensely."

"Are you kidding?" Joe asked, enraged. "How did he know John?"

"He didn't," Don went on. "But he knew OF him, of course. He may have known John for a brief while; they MAY have met. I'm not sure. He knew Jack because he was a stagehand at the theater."

"I mean- what would his motive be?" Joe went on.

"I don't know. He claims it wasn't him, remember. But since we both know it WAS him, then his motive may be that he was an ignored actor who desperately wanted John's part but never received it, and he killed the director and besmirched John's name to get revenge."

"Why didn't he run?" Joe asked. "I don't care how much you hate someone, you don't just stand there and wait to be caught."

"And there's the issue, young man. I know Frank through this charity, but I also know his work as a detective, as well as yours and your father's reputations. You need to check this out. Get to him as quickly as possible and get to the truth, before John's name can be dragged more through the mud. He was appointed a defense attorney." Don leaned forward at this point and looked directly in Joe's eyes. "But he declined, and wants to represent himself in court. I cannot believe this, but he requested to see your father- or you, or your brother- because he wants to give the 'truth' and he thinks you can find it."

"What the hell?!" Joe asked, stunned. "The guy who killed someone, who is only 19, doesn't want a lawyer and wants to see us, when he knows we would find evidence to convict him- and we are clearly not on his side?!"

"Yes." Don nodded.

"That's insane!" Joe cried.

"And THAT is where, as an attorney, I would advise you to be careful. He may decide that he wants an attorney after all, and he probably is insane. You don't just kill people and NOT be insane. But if he goes for a different attorney, you may actually be helping the defense prove whatever case they're building."

"Then what would you advise?" Joe asked, "because I will not let John's name get tarnished."

"I would advise that you go," Don said evenly. "He wants to see you or your family alone. I'm curious. I'll make the call if you agree to it, and I will accompany you despite his wishes, though I'm no criminal attorney. The prosecutor's office will be working with Chief Collig, whom you know well. If this kid does waive his right to an attorney, as he seems to have done, he'll get hanged in court, which is fine by me. My only interest in this case is to protect the interest of the Gellers name and this foundation. Will you speak to him?"

"Yes, I will," Joe answered, fire in his eyes. As crazy as this story was, he was curious, and he would do anything he could to protect Johnny's name and legacy. For Johnny, of course. But also for Frank, Callie, JJ, and Vanessa. It was the least he could do to thank the dear friend who had given up his life for all of them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Note:** _Many thanks to all those reading and following, and especially to those of you who were so kind to leave reviews on the last chapter, which were much appreciated: hbndgirl, Erin Jordan, hlahabibty, Caranath, max 2013, Paulina Ann, Hero 76, EvergreenDreamweaver, Laurie Q, and Tin Dog (on chapter 2). Your comments always make me smile!_

 _Warning: MILD cursing._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 4

As Joe headed from Don Anllow's office, his mind was whirling. So the kid who had been caught red-handed next to the body of Jack Johnson was feigning ignorance of the whole crime, waiving his right to a lawyer, and asking to see him or his family. None of it made any sense.

He looked at his watch- 5:30 already. A growling stomach reminded him that he hadn't had anything to eat all day, and he still had to stop by the office and then go back to Frank's later on. It was turning out to be a long day.

After driving for 20 minutes, he arrived back at the office where he'd started the day and noticed that the alarm didn't go off. He sighed, figuring that neither he nor his father had thought to turn it on when they had left to follow the ambulance this morning. Making his way through the front door, he found himself back soon enough at Frank's office, and he took a deep breath before entering. Memories of the morning assaulted him at once, and he swallowed hard, thinking of the pain Frank had been in; how scary it had been to almost lose him.

Collecting his thoughts, he surveyed Frank's ridiculously neat office and replayed everything that had transpired. With a wry grin, he thought that, if the situation had been reversed, no one would even bother trying to find something in his office; the cause would be futile.

"What did you do, big brother?" he asked out loud. He sat at Frank's desk and tried to envision his brother's actions, closing his eyes as he did so. _Frank comes in. Sarcastic. Looks sick. Argue about allergies and kids. Dad asks about coffee. Yadda yadda._ Nothing out of the ordinary, he realized, reminding himself that Frank had gotten sick about 15 minutes after he popped the Tylenol. Remembering that Frank had retrieved the bottle from the top right drawer of his desk, Joe reached down, and, sure enough, saw the bottle. He picked it up, and noticed immediately that the label was missing.

He examined it more closely and saw that the label had been peeled off, and then, curious, he popped open the top and dumped a few pills out. Gasping, Joe felt the color fade from his face. There, right in front of him, were several aspirins, NOT Tylenol. That's what had caused Frank to get so sick.

He picked up the phone and called Callie immediately. "Hello?" he heard her answer, the reception less than great.

"Cal? It's Joe. Are you home with Frank yet?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "I stopped off at home quickly before and checked the Zyrtec bottle, but everything looked normal," she said. "I had to get JJ's things so that your mom could watch him tonight. I'm so grateful," she added. "I'm just so drained."

"I know," he agreed. "Listen, Cal, it wasn't the Zyrtec. Frank had a big bottle of aspirin in the office. Do you know why he would have that? It wasn't labeled."

"What?" she asked, surprised. "I have no idea. Listen, I'll be back at the hospital in 25 minutes to pick up Frank. I'll call you then after I ask him, okay?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. "I'll be over at 8:00 or so, then. Does that work? Maybe I'll bring Van. We won't stay long. She can chat with you while I talk to Frank, and then the two of you can rest."

"No prob. Talk to you soon. Bye." She hung up, sounding somewhat distracted.

Joe took the bottle from Frank's desk, slipped it into a ziplock bag that Frank's desk also happened to have an ample supply of, for some reason, and sealed it. It would be good to have to show the doctor if Frank experienced any more complications, and it would certainly be good to show Frank to ask him what the hell he had been doing with a medicine to which he had a known allergen.

He quickly texted his dad about his plans and told him he would fill him in about the Anllow request tomorrow.

He was about to leave when Biff called him. He sighed. He could never get moving when he needed to.

"What's up, bud?" he asked into the phone.

"Joe, where are you? I called Vanessa before and she told me what happened with Frank. Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He will be. Thanks for asking," Joe replied.

"This sucks, man. That must have scared you shitless."

Joe snorted. Biff's way with words always made him laugh. "Nah. I'm still full of shit most of the time," he joked.

"Listen, Joe- I'd normally go back at you about your lame ass jokes- no pun intended-" he laughed in spite of himself, and Joe rolled his eyes on his end of the line, "but could you drop by? Or maybe I could come to your house? I want to show you something."

"Uh-" Joe checked his watch and heard his stomach growl again. "How about you meet me for a quick dinner? I'm not home, Van's probably eaten already, and I'm going to Frank's house later. Plus, let's face it. Your girlfriend is probably getting sick of your ugly face and wants you out of the apartment for a bit."

"I think your list of comebacks expired three years ago," Biff replied easily. "Yep. Your treat, of course."

" _Seriously_ , Biff?" Joe asked. "You're the one who wanted to meet up with me, remember? By the way, is all okay?"

"Uh- kind of. Anyway, you're paying, so I'll go easy on you and not pick the steakhouse this time."

Joe sighed. "Fine. McDonald's."

"Class it up, brother," Biff retorted.

"Chick Fil-A?" Joe asked.

"Now you're speaking my language," Biff replied with a laugh. "Twenty minutes?"

"You got it," Joe replied. _At least I'll get a meal out of this, even if I have to pay for it_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A half hour later, Biff and Joe were eating in a back corner of the restaurant, table piled high with food. "Damn, Biff. I'd be pissed that you made me pay, but I was so hungry, I don't even care." He popped two huge fries into his mouth at once.

"I'll get dessert," Biff added, starting on his third chicken sandwich.

"It's free with the meals I bought," Joe reminded him.

Raising his brows, Biff asked, a little too innocently, "Is it? That's a damned shame. I offered."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Okay- so what did you want to talk to me about? It's been a long day."

Joe was concerned when Biff's face fell slightly, and he immediately got more serious. "You okay? Listen, Biff, if this is girl trouble, just give me til tonight to call you. I really have to see Frank pretty soon." With a start, Joe realized that he hadn't heard from Callie. That was weird. He made a mental note to call her when his phone rang.

Joe sighed. Damn. Everything always happened at the same time."Hang on, Biff." He noticed his dad's number, and picked up. "Hey, Dad."

"Joe, have you heard from Callie?" Fenton asked directly.

Joe was startled. "No. I was just thinking that, actually. She was supposed to have called me like 45 minutes ago. She's not there? Wasn't she supposed to be picking Frank up?" At once, he started getting nervous. Something was wrong.

"Yes, she was," his dad answered. "And I'm a little concerned. Your mom is home with JJ. I assume Vanessa is at your house. I'm going to stall and make an excuse for why Callie isn't here and take Frank back to his house now myself, but do me a favor and find your sister- in- law."

"Okay," Joe said. "I will." He hung up.

"What's the matter?" Biff asked, concerned at once.

Joe filled him in as quickly as possible. "I have to go," he apologized. "I'll call you later."

"No way," Biff interrupted. "I'll help you retrace her route. Where was she?"

"Coming from her house and going back to the hospital, I think," Joe answered, trying to be calm.

"That's not long at all. Come on. We'll take my car. I'm sure she's okay," he told Joe, patting his back.

"Okay," Joe nodded. "Thanks."

They started out at once, Biff driving and checking the northbound sides of the road and Joe scouring the southbound side. It was difficult, given that it was getting dark. Not seeing anything, Joe was really getting nervous when his phone rang, and, looking down, he saw it was Callie's number. Biff pulled off to the side of the road.

"Cal?" he asked at once. "Where-"

"Joe," she said, voice faint. "I'm literally about 10 minutes from the hospital, right before the exit." He heard her moan softly. "My car went off the road."

"What?" he cried. "Oh my god. Stay there. I'll call an ambulance."

"I'm okay," she assured him, though her voice was weak. "Thank god JJ wasn't with me. Can you come and get me? I called for a tow truck and they're sending an ambulance anyway."

Joe sucked in his breath. What the hell had happened? "Now? When did you call? When did it happen?"

"I called about 5 minutes ago. I...dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Joe asked, lowering his voice only when he felt Biff's hand on his arm, indicating for him to calm down, as he started to drive towards Callie, overhearing her location. Joe nodded at Biff gratefully.

"Joe, don't yell," Callie reprimanded, but he wasn't mad- he could hear the tears in her voice. "I… I think about 40 minutes or so ago. That's when I called you before, right? I don't know. I just woke up."

"You were unconscious?" Joe asked, horrified.

"Yeah. I… I mean…" she sounded disoriented. "They're here. Just get me." She hung up as Joe stared at the phone, shocked.

"She's okay," Biff reminded him when he saw the stricken look on Joe's face. "We'll be there in 5 minutes. Text your dad and tell him that you're getting Callie. Don't tell him anything else until you know, especially because Frank will flip the hell out if Callie is hurt."

Joe nodded. Biff was right.

True to his word, Biff arrived at the ramp's entrance not 5 minutes later. It was easy to locate with the tow truck's and the ambulance's lights.

Joe flew out of Biff's truck and saw Callie, one hand on her head and the other on her back, talking to an EMT. "Callie!" he called out to her, and she turned to him. He gasped. She had a large bump on her forehead, a cut across her cheek, and a swollen lip. "Are you okay?" He wanted to hug her, but he was afraid he would hurt her.

The EMT responded. "She's responsive, obviously, but refusing medical treatment, which we advise she get. We can't force her."

"Oh, _hell no_ -she's not refusing medical treatment!" Joe exclaimed, senses heightened in frustration and fear for Callie's safety. "She's hurt and she's pregnant and she's apparently crazy."

"Joe, I'm okay," she retorted, exhausted.

"Callie, for God's sake- what the hell is the matter with you?!" he shouted at her, emotions ruling him.

"Joe, knock it off," Biff warned, finally having made it to them. He saw how upset Joe was getting Callie.

"She needs help," Joe argued.

The stress of the accident and Joe's shouting finally got to her, and Callie started crying. Joe shut up at once, as Biff moved past him and gently put his arm around Callie.

"Go, Cal. It'll be an hour or two. What's the difference? You need to make sure the baby is okay. Please? It's best for everyone, really. Jackass over there will go with you and I'll figure out a way with the AAA guy to get your car back to the garage and to get Joe's car back to his house. He's just worried about you. You know he loves you." He gave Callie a quick kiss on her head and proceeded to grab Joe's arm.

"You go with her and shut up for once. I'll call your dad and tell him what happened. And I'll meet you in a half hour at the hospital. Okay?" Biff asked, exasperated.

"Thanks," Joe mumbled as Biff walked away.

Joe helped Callie, who would not meet his eyes, onto the ambulance, and they sat in silence until their arrival at the emergency room, where she was whisked away.

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Thirty minutes later, as promised, Biff joined him, folding his arms across his broad chest. "How is she?"

"Still waiting," Joe answered sullenly. "I apologize for earlier."

"Don't apologize to me, jerk. Callie was really upset. Apologize to her."

Joe met Biff's eyes. He was exhausted and still had a long day ahead, despite the fact that it was almost 8:30 at night. "You're right," he said dully. Then, he added, "Do I even want to know what my dad said?"

"Your ears may be too delicate," Biff quipped. "But let's say he was… upset."

Joe groaned and covered his eyes. "I can't deal with this right now."

Biff tapped his leg and Joe opened his eyes again. "I know, man," Biff answered. "So let me tell you what's happening and you listen for once, okay?"

"Okay," Joe agreed.

"Frank's at his house and Vanessa is already there with him. He's completely out of it and has no clue about Callie, so let's just keep it like that until tomorrow. Your dad got picked up by your mom, who took little Crankie with her to get him."

"Crankie?" Joe asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, JJ. Little Callie and Little Frank- Crankie. Now shut up and let me continue."

Joe smiled at his friend, who had done so much but, as always, in his own unique style. "He's getting your car at the restaurant while she then will take the baby back to the Shaws so that your mom can stay with your dad back at Frank and Callie's house, too. Callie's car will be at PepBoys any minute and they'll work on it tomorrow. Chet has connections there and he'll make sure it's done. And then I will drive you and Callie back to her house where I will say goodbye to her and drop your sorry ass off, because this was a hell of a lot of aggravation for a damned dinner at Chick Fil-A."

Joe's expression softened. He was so lucky to have Biff as his best friend next to Frank. He never let him down. "I owe you one," he said sincerely.

Biff uncrossed his arms and smiled at Joe. "No you don't. You know I love you. But you owe me dessert next time at least."

Joe's eyes crinkled in a silent laugh. "At _least,_ buddy." Suddenly, he sat up as realization dawned on him. "Biff- I'm sorry, bro. You wanted to talk to me about something and I totally got sidetracked. What's up?"

Biff's smile faltered a bit. "I don't really want to hit you with this now…"

"Might as well," Joe interrupted. "Although, if how I acted with Callie is any indication, if it's relationship advice, you may want to hold off asking me."

"It's not," Biff replied. "He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two pieces of paper. The first one was red and the second one was orange. "This is weird shit, but I thought you should know. After the ABC stuff on the last case, I thought I would tell you anything unusual. And this- this is weird."

"What is it?" Joe asked, feeling his stomach drop.

Biff handed him the red piece of paper first. "Tony called me on Sunday to say that he had received this weird piece of paper on his front door. It has poetry or something on it. Look." He handed it to Joe, who read the typed lines at once. **THOUGH PRECIOUS MOMENTS DO HEAD YOUR WAY NOW/ THIS TIME I WILL SAY THAT THEY WILL NOT LAST.**

Joe sighed heavily. This wasn't good.

"What does it mean?" Biff asked.

"I don't even know," Joe answered, rubbing his eyes. "Good times won't last? Why didn't Tony tell me about this?" he asked.

Biff blushed.

"What?" Joe asked, interested.

"Uh... I think he was in the doghouse with his wife for something, and he thought it was from her. Like, the good times are over or something. But- well, it wasn't. It bothered him enough to ask me about it, since that killer guy sent me and him packages last time. He's a little on edge."

Joe sat up straighter, his stomach hurting. "Okay, Biff. So why tell me now? Did you get something?"

"Yup," Biff answered directly. "Same size paper, but mine was orange. Look what this one says." He pointed to the saying as he handed it to Joe. Again, in the same typed font, were two more lines. **Be so vigilant; do not ask for how/ Madness fleeting really remains a mask.**

Joe's head started to pound. "You got this today?" he asked.

"Yeah- this morning," Biff answered.

"I assume you still didn't get the cameras installed, huh?" Joe asked, knowing the answer. "Never mind," Joe answered himself. "It doesn't matter. Did Chet get anything?"

"Not as far as I know," Biff said. "But if it's the same guy…."

"He'll get it tomorrow. Yup. Okay. I'm going to call Collig and get someone to Chet's house right away. Hang on." It only took 20 minutes for Joe to get directly in touch with Collig and Chet, to explain his concerns, and to get a police car on the way. Collig also sent officers to his house, Frank's house, the Shaws, and his parents' house. He texted his dad the bare minimum, unable to get into it over the phone. " _Dad, be home soon. Cotnig may be back. Police cars on way. Will explain later. DO NOT TELL FRANK YET."_

Joe laid back against the seat and looked at his watch. 9:45. "Be careful, Biff. Please. Collig will have officers watch you."

"Do you think it's him?" Biff inquired, and Joe could tell he was nervous. Not only was having a serial killer who knew your name enough to scare anyone, but also Biff and Johnny had become very friendly, and Biff knew what serious meant now that Johnny had died.

"Yes," Joe answered directly. "I do."

Biff wiped the sweat from his brow. "Are there weird letter codes and shit this time?"

"Yeah," Joe sighed, exasperated. "WTF is what I'm working on now."

Biff laughed despite himself, and some of the tension was broken.

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Twenty minutes later, Callie emerged into the waiting room, holding her purse and coat. A doctor followed her out, ignoring her annoyed expression.

"Joe?" he asked. Apparently, Callie had told him who she was with, though she remained silent. Biff stood as well.

"Yes," Joe answered, concerned about Callie, who had stood beside Biff, not him. He pushed aside the sting and concentrated on what the doctor was saying.

"Callie should be okay," the doctor said quickly, obviously in a hurry to remove himself from the tension in the room. "But it's a good thing she came here. She has several abrasions and contusions as well as a minor concussion, and a slight sprain in her back. We were very concerned about the effect of the air bag deployment on the uterus and placenta, but, after monitoring her for well over an hour, she seems to have suffered no damage. However," the doctor cautioned, turning to Callie, "As I have told you, and I tell you again, if you feel any pain in your abdomen, or experience any spotting whatsoever, you are to return immediately to the hospital." He looked at Joe. "I'd prefer to keep her for observation, but she has signed herself out against my advice."

Joe sighed heavily. HE was stubborn. FRANK could be incredibly stubborn, as he had found out on their last case. But CALLIE- she could well outdo both him and his brother combined. It wasn't even worth arguing about it.

"Thank you," Joe said to the doctor. "I'll keep an eye on her. Good night."

The entire ride home, Callie sat in silence and looked out the window. Joe contemplated what the hell he was going to tell his father and brother about her, Cotnig, and Johnny's case. This had been a hell of day.

Joe asked Biff to drop him off about three houses down from Callie and Frank's home, which is the first time that she even looked at him, curiously. Biff nodded, opened the door for Callie, and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. He gave Joe a quick hug, followed immediately by a punch on his shoulder, and promised to call him the next day.

Joe turned to his sister- in- law, who, he noticed, looked totally drained. With her bandage, and pale and bruised face, as well as the way she was moving, he knew she was in pain. He took the safest route as he stood in front of her.

"I'm sorry," he said directly to her. She nodded and looked down.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you- you're right. But you know what, Cal?" he asked, noticing she was still not meeting his eyes. "You need to cut me a break. I almost watched Frank die this morning. I'm on a case that involves Johnny that makes no effing sense. I almost had a heart attack when I thought you had died, and you know what? You ARE hurt- and that kills me. Plus, you know, Cotnig may be back." He regretted it the minute he said it. This was too much for her- hell- it was too much for _him._

"WHAT?!" she gasped, and immediately grabbed her back.

"I'll fill you in tomorrow," he said more gently. "About everything. You have to trust me, Cal. You're safe tonight- I promise you. Frank and Van and my parents are at your house. JJ is with your parents. Everyone is being watched. Can we not fight? Please."

She nodded weakly.

"What happened tonight, Cal?"

"My brakes failed," she mumbled.

"What?! How?" he cried.

"Joe, I don't know. I went to step on them and they didn't work. What do you want me to say?" She looked awful, and he backed down.

"I want to know you're okay," he said, simply.

"No, I'm not," she replied plainly, shocking him. "I'm scared, Joe". She was trembling, wiping tears from her eyes. "You almost lost your brother; I almost lost my husband. That terrified me. I got into a car accident and I don't know why, and honestly, yes- I'm actually in a lot of pain. But also, all I could think about was the fact that I had just dropped my son off not ten minutes prior to my accident, and then, when I woke up, my back felt like I was going to break in half. And I was terrified, Joe," she was crying openly now, "because I thought I was losing my baby. And I thought that once before, and I almost did. And now-what am I supposed to say to Frank when I can't hide what happened to me, and he's still recovering?" She was trying to catch her breath. "And you're yelling at me, and I have a pounding headache, and now you're telling me that you're working on a case that involves my Johnny and that his killer is back. So no. I'm not okay."

Joe's heart ached hearing her brutally honest words. Callie was very much his sister, and the stress of the day was overwhelming for her. At once, he took her in his arms and held her gently. He got it; he really did.

"You will be," he whispered to her. After a few minutes, she was calmer, but quiet; numb. He quickly kissed her forehead.

He had no idea what to say to Frank, either; what to say to any of them. But they were all safe for now, on the same team, always-and it was enough. It had to be.

He held her hand as he guided her back to her house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note:** _Thank you to all reading and following this story. I am especially appreciate for those who left reviews on the last chapter, which were much appreciated: hlahabibty, hbndgirl, BMSH, Hero 76, EvergreenDreamweaver, Erin Jordan, Caranath, max2013, and Paulina Ann (and TinDog on Chapter 3). I always look forward to seeing what people have to say. :)_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 5

It was very late by the time that Joe and Callie entered the house, and Joe could tell that his dad was about to pounce on him had he not seen Callie first. As his parents and Vanessa rushed to her, Joe could sense immediately that it was all too much for her.

"Guys," he said, a little more loudly than he normally would speak, "Callie's really had a tough night and she needs rest. Let's let her sleep, okay? I'll fill you in when she's resting."

Laura looked at her daughter- in-law, who had been through so very much this year, and she realized that Joe was right. "Come on, sweetheart," she said gently to her. "Let me help you upstairs. You rest and call me if you need anything. Fenton and I will spend the night; so will Vanessa and Joe. Then, we'll leave you and Frank in the morning."

Callie smiled weakly. "Good thing we have a lot of bedrooms, huh?" she managed.

Laura hugged her around the shoulders, concerned when she saw Callie wince, but she bit her tongue. "We are fuss free people, honey. JJ is with your parents in good hands. Frank is sound asleep."

"Then maybe I'll sleep in one of the guest bedrooms, too," she replied. "Let him rest. Did you… say anything to him about tonight?"

Laura saw the fear in Callie's eyes and gently rubbed her back. "No, honey. Fenton just told him you were delayed and I think he was so out of it he didn't really know what was going on. He's been sleeping the entire night.

At the top of the stairwell, Callie yawned and gave Laura a quick kiss on the cheek. She made her way to the master bedroom to check on Frank anyway, and felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders when she saw him breathing peacefully. Although she wanted to wake him up and settle firmly into his arms, she knew that he needed the rest. After changing quickly, brushing her teeth and hair, and fighting the need for pain medication- even Tylenol, that she refused to take because of her pregnancy- she slipped out of the room, pausing only to bend down and kiss Frank's forehead. Then, she settled into the guest room nearest to JJ's nursery, turned down the lights, and was soon fast asleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Downstairs, Vanessa rushed to hug Joe and he held her tightly. Even though he had tried his best to keep in touch with her, it had been a hell of a day, and he probably hadn't done as good a job as he would have liked. "I love you, babe," he said to her, needing her to know.

"I know," she said, kissing him lightly. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Fenton broke in, "Which is the only reason that you're still alive right now." Fenton crossed his arms and glared at Joe as only he could, and, reluctantly, Joe let go of Vanessa.

He motioned for them all to sit down, knowing they wouldn't sleep until they got the whole story.

So, fighting exhaustion, Joe told them everything, watching Vanessa squirm and his dad turn red when he mentioned Cotnig; his mom and Vanessa clutch hands as he told them about Callie's accident; his father look completely perplexed when he told him about the murder case and the mention of Johnny's name, and watching everyone stare at him intently when he told them about the temporary protections in place by the Bayport PD and his conversation with Chief Collig. By the time he was done, it was almost 1:00 in the morning, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

As Vanessa and Laura, upset, went upstairs to retire, Fenton took Joe's arm. "Tomorrow, Joe, I'm going with you to see this suspect in jail. Call the lawyer- this Anllow- early, and see what he can work out for later in the afternoon. I don't think Frank will be up for it, but he deserves to know and to have that opportunity. I will check in with Collig first thing in the morning, and you need to call Chet again to make sure that nothing gets delivered to him. We all have to be very careful, son. And we need to get him this time."

Joe nodded in agreement, trying desperately to stay awake.

"Your mom and I will leave early to get a few of these errands done, and I'll go back to the office. I'll also call the Shaws and pick up the baby in the morning; drop him back off here so he can be with his parents. Call by noon, AFTER you speak with your brother and tell him what's going on. Then I think you should leave him with Callie for a little while so they can rest. Please tell him to call me, or his in- laws, or Vanessa- if they need help with JJ while they recover. I have a feeling, though, that they'll want him here with them. As it probably should be."

"Okay," Joe managed, trying to retain everything. Hs dad had a habit of firing orders sometimes, and normally Joe could concentrate enough to either listen or plot a tactic to avoid listening, but he was just too damned tired tonight.

"Hey Joe?" he heard his dad say. He turned back to him, as he had been heading up the stairs. "You did great today, son. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, dad," he answered and smiled authentically for the first time in hours.

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The next morning, Joe forced himself up at 8:00, still dead tired, and noticed that Vanessa was missing. He panicked for a minute until he saw the note next to the bed. " _Monopolizing F & C's kitchen and making breakfast & coffee. Come down when you're ready. Love u, Van." _He relaxed at once.

Within a half hour, he got dressed, forced himself to make the bed, feeling a little guilty that they had all descended on Frank and Callie's house last night, and checked in the room in which his parents had spent the night. True to his father's word, they were already gone. Quietly, he looked into the third guest bedroom and noticed Callie, sound asleep. Good- she needed that. The master bedroom door was closed as well, and he was relieved. He would have just a little bit longer to think of how to break down all of these events to his brother, including Callie's accident. That wouldn't be easy.

When he arrived downstairs at 9:00, he was shocked to find JJ in his high chair and Vanessa feeding him as he proceeded to make a mess of everything, food flying everywhere, which he seemed to find hilarious. When he saw Joe, he started jumping up and down in his seat. "Unca! Unca!" he repeated, and Joe felt happy, genuinely, for the first time in a while.

Quickly he went to Vanessa, kissed her rather enthusiastically, and grabbed a cup of coffee, placing it back down a second later when he saw JJ still jumping and lifting his arms. "Unca!" he mumbled again, getting mad when Joe didn't acknowledge him immediately.

Joe couldn't help but smile. This baby was so stinkin' cute and he could not have loved him more. Even though it still occasionally freaked him out that his brother was a dad… and that he was going to be one, himself… this baby was everything to his brother and Joe knew he would always protect him with his life.

"Come ON," Joe sighed in mock exasperation as he bent over, released the tray, and lifted JJ up. "Unca Joe is here, ya big baby!" he teased, and proceeded to kiss his neck so many times that JJ was screaming with laughter. Pretty soon, Joe and Vanessa were laughing, too.

"Nothing like a baby to cheer you up," he quipped to Vanessa, as he attempted to eat the eggs and pancakes that Vanessa had made with one hand and bounce JJ on his knee with the other. He was partially successful.

"When did the Shaws drop him off?" Joe asked.

"Oh, your dad picked him up early from them and got here about an hour ago. I think grandpa wanted to see the little guy for a bit," she said affectionately. "That kid is spoiled rotten."

"You're gonna be a big tough guy when you grow up, right, buddy? Uncle Joe is going to teach you everything you need to know," he said to JJ before kissing his head.

Suddenly, JJ started struggling to get off Joe's lap so hard that Joe, puzzled, finally put him down. He took off crawling at lightning speed. "Dada! Dada!" he kept repeating. He crawled right to Frank, who was standing at the other end of the living room, his face a mixture of love and confusion. He picked up JJ immediately, kissed his nose, and walked back to the kitchen with him.

"Morning," he said to them, voice still hoarse. He looked confused as JJ continued to pull at his shirt and he let him without even giving it a second thought. "Guys, where's Callie?

He didn't seem to miss the look that Vanessa shot Joe and he started to panic. "Guys?!" he repeated.

"She's fine," Joe said a bit too quickly. "She's sleeping. But we do need to talk."

"Sleeping where?" Frank asked. He was trying to remain neutral while holding his son, knowing darned well Joe's penchant for lying by omission.

"Upstairs- in the bedroom by JJ's nursery. Go check if you don't believe me," Joe countered. He sighed inwardly. This was not a good start.

"Yeah, I think I'll do that," Frank replied, shocking Joe. "Come on, honey. Let's go see mommy." With those words, he turned and headed quickly for the stairs.

Vanessa walked behind Joe and rested her hands on his shoulders, giving him a light massage. "I think I'll take the baby, if Frank will let me, give him a bath, and get the heck out of your way. Then, I'll take do some work from home today- or maybe here, if Callie needs help- later on when the two of you are gone. Good luck, babe." She hugged him from behind and he leaned back against her.

Frank returned a few minutes later, looking visibly relieved. "She's there. She's sleeping."

"Yeah, exactly what I just told you," Joe replied, irritably.

"But why isn't she sleeping in our bedroom? What's wrong?" he followed up.

"Frank," Vanessa interjected, "I managed to let JJ make a huge mess this morning. Let me take him and give him a bath and play for a while with him while Callie rests. Then you two can talk." She reached out before Frank could respond and took JJ, who started crying. Frank looked upset, but Vanessa scooted away with him quickly. "He'll be fine!" she called out, and disappeared up the stairs.

Alone at last, Joe motioned for Frank to sit down, which he reluctantly did.

"How are you feeling?" Joe asked, more gently than before.

Frank sighed before answering. "I'm okay, Joe. My throat hurts; my stomach is way off. I feel anxious and get palpitations. But otherwise, I'm fine. Why is my wife in the guest bedroom and what aren't you telling me?"

Joe met Frank's eyes and felt a little bad. Frank was rarely this testy, and he was just reminded by him that the effects of the medicine injections and his allergic reaction was probably partially to blame. That, and the fact that he was disoriented and really did have no idea what was going on.

He decided to be direct. "I'll tell you about Callie in a minute," he started. "First, I'm going through this as quickly as I can, okay? We'll start with yesterday at the office. I went back and figured out the bottle of 'Tylenol' you took was really aspirin. The label was peeled off and it was a pretty large bottle. Hang on." He got up quickly, went to his coat in the front hall closet, and took out the ziplock bag. He tossed it to his brother. "Look familiar?"

Frank started at the bottle and shook his head. "THIS was in my drawer?"

"Yup," Joe answered, not liking the thought of where this was going.

"It's not mine. I've never seen it before," Frank replied slowly, still fighting a cough and sore throat.

"You know, bro, I'd say it was a freak accident, but I don't know now. There's a lot more to tell you. Ready?"

Frank nodded, rapt, as Joe continued. He filled Frank in on the case involving Johnny and his conversation with Don Anllow, and watched Frank's face change rapidly in expression, from shock, to anger, to confusion.

"What?!" Frank exclaimed. "The guy who killed Jack wants to see us to prove that he _didn't_ kill Jack, and he doesn't want a lawyer?"

"I know. You're coming with me, though, right?" Joe asked, just to make sure.

"Hell yeah I'm coming with you," Frank responded hoarsely. "But let me be clear. I have no interest in taking on a case that will, in any way, harm Johnny's reputation. I'm going only to see what he's talking about and to get him to say why he dragged Johnny's name into it. That's it. I'll try to undo what damage I can, but I will not HELP him. Got it?"

Joe was affronted. "Yeah, Frank. Of course. Neither will I. I'm in it for the same reasons you are, obviously. Calm down."

Frank spoke slowly. "Does Callie know?"

Joe winced. "Uh- kind of."

"What does that mean, and-" Frank began, but Joe interrupted.

"I told her last night- a little bit. Anyway, let me tell you about Biff."

Frank looked completely baffled. "What does BIFF have to do with any of this?" he queried. He rubbed his temples.

Joe leaned back and said, "Hold on tight." He told Frank the whole story, stopping before Callie's accident. He handed Frank the slips of paper.

Frank's face grew pale. "Cotnig. It HAS to be," he said quietly. "Let me see those." He studied the papers.

 **Though precious moments do head your way now/ This time I will say that they will not last.**

 **Be so vigilant; do not ask for how/ Madness fleeting really remains a mask.**

"The colors have to mean something, too. EVERYTHING he does means something." Frank placed the papers on the table and groaned."Dammit to hell," he growled. "And Tony got this Sunday and Biff got his yesterday?"

"Yes," Joe acknowledged, trying to be as concise as possible to let Frank think.

"So I see why you think Chet would be the next one," Frank went on, thoughtfully. "Have you heard from him?"

"He texted this morning. Nothing," Joe admitted. "Maybe the police presence scared Cotnig off?"

"No. Nothing scares him off," Frank answered, eerily calm. "Joe, this is a lot of work for one person. Think he's working with someone else?" he asked quietly.

Joe sucked in a breath. He hadn't thought of that. "I… no. I mean, how? There were five escapees last time. Other than Cotnig, they're all either in jail or dead now. Everyone else is accounted for."

Frank crossed his hands. "Maybe…" he said, looking off into the distance for a moment. "And you think he got into the office and planted the aspirin."

Joe nodded. "I mean, I guess. Given that and Callie…"

Frank almost jumped. "What do you mean, given Callie?" he asked immediately.

Joe cringed. _Great. That went well._ The only way he could do it was quickly- rip the bandaid off. "Callie was in a car accident yesterday. She's banged up and her car is wrecked. She'll be okay, but she WAS hurt: she has come cuts and bruises, a slight concussion, and a minor sprain to her back. The baby's okay," he added quickly.

He watched Frank's face drain of even more color. "Why didn't you tell me?!" he cried out, standing at once. "Joe!"

Joe felt terrible. He could tell that Frank wasn't even really mad at him- he was terrified for Callie. He grabbed Frank's arm. "LISTEN to me," he begged him. "Listen, Frank. I'll tell you the whole story, but you saw her sleeping before- you just probably didn't get a good look at her. She's really okay. I promise you that."

Frank was having a hard time staying calm, but Joe gently pushed him back on the couch and filled him in on everything, from the accident to where JJ had been, to this moment. Finally, he added, "So you see why I'm worried? You had an 'accident.' Callie had an 'accident.' They have to be related, Frank. And Cotnig has to have something to do with it."

Before Frank could answer, Joe heard his cell phone buzz that a text message had come in. He pulled out his phone and read it. "Shit," he mumbled.

"What?" Frank asked, still reeling.

"Chet DID get a message. He just didn't see it at first, and it was on the back door, not the front. Hang on." He took a moment to text Chet back before looking up again. "I told him to hold onto it and not to touch it. We have to check it for fingerprints, as well as that bottle of aspirin, and then figure out what happened with Cal's car. I also told him that I'd pick it up this afternoon. Vanessa and I are going to leave you and Callie alone for a few hours. I'll call Anllow and then you can meet dad and I, and Anllow, and Collig, at the holding cell for this kid this afternoon. I'll tell you when I have a time. Is that okay?"

Frank nodded slowly. "What did the message say?" he asked.

Joe sighed. "It's another stupid poem. This time, it's on yellow paper. **Yet you will question why I act so frank?/ There eventually you will bother."**

Frank smiled bitterly. "I don't know what any of this means, but Cotnig is playing us for sure. I haven't even thought about it, but 'frank' has to be a pun on my name. I think we need to study these with dad. Because, Joe- don't forget- WE are not even the targets. It's Collig and dad. Remember that."

Joe felt a headache coming on. Frank's near death experience, Callie's accident, poems, Cotnig, his father and Chief Collig, and a freaking case with Johnny on top of it all. This was overwhelming.

"Joe?" Frank went on. "The day you were in my office- think. Did you turn off the alarm to get in?"

Joe smacked his head. "No. I didn't. I just assumed that maybe dad or you did. Well, now we have to scrutinize the whole office and get surveillance video, because he was there." This was getting worse and worse.

"Yes," Frank responded quietly. "And we had better pray that that we get no hits on the fingerprints."

Joe was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Joe, come on. Cotnig's prints were burned off in the fire. So if we DO get a hit-"

"Ugh!" Joe exclaimed, punching the couch. "Then he's working with other people."

He met Frank's eyes. No doubt about it. Everything else aside, they were going back to battle the worst madman they had ever encountered. He'd already won once. Joe felt confident they could beat him this time. _But at what cost?_ he found himself asking. Looking at Frank, he knew he was asking himself that very same question.


	6. Chapter 6

**Note** : As always, many thanks to those of you reading and following, and especially for those of who have reviewed since the last chapter. Your feedback truly makes a difference and makes me smile! And to those of you who have asked about the colors, and whether or not Frank and Callie would be the targets, not Fenton and Ezra- well, the boys will be wondering the same things... and may just talk about them soon! ;) Thanks bunches to TinDog, ulstergirl, hbndgirl, BMSH, ErinJordan, Caranath, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, LaurieQ, Guest, Max2013, and Paulina Ann for your reviews since the last chapter.

 _Warning: There is a Harry Potter spoiler in Part 1 of the chapter (this may seem silly, but if you haven't read it...) and some MILD cursing in the second half of the chapter. It's about to get complicated, too. That's all, folks! Enjoy!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 6

Callie opened her eyes slowly and stretched, wincing when she twisted the wrong way. She had already gotten up earlier, showered, and washed and dried her hair before returning to the guest room and falling asleep again. Everything was so sore.

She slowly got up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her lip and cheek were still swollen, and her forehead still sported a noticeable bump, but, otherwise, she at least looked somewhat intact. Yesterday had been horrifying. She kept replaying in her mind the fact that JJ could have been with her in that accident; that, were it not for some miracle, she could have been badly hurt, died, or lost her baby. Tears burned her eyes when that thought hit her and she rested her hands on her small baby bump. Her husband and children were her life, and she had come to close to losing it all-in one day. Hadn't she been through enough already?

She swallowed hard. She had never been one to feel sorry for herself; had never been one to over-rely on anyone. But, God, this year had been hell. Her heart still ached terribly for Johnny. She missed talking to him, hearing about his life, and knowing that he cared about hers. He had protected her with his life, and the sense of guilt stayed with her still, which is why she so desperately needed him to be remembered. She really had loved him deeply, and felt his absence profoundly each day. And now Joe had said something about a case involving him? What?! And Cotnig was back, too? No. No no no no. She couldn't go back there, relive a nightmare from which, truthfully, she hadn't even fully awoken.

And how would she even face Frank today? She knew he would be so upset about about the accident; that is, IF Joe had even told him, as he promised he would. She had almost lost Frank yesterday in a freak accident, and it had scared her to death. Frank had always allowed her independence, as she had done the same; their mutual trust was so strong. But since the problems with her pregnancy last year, her recent pregnancy problems, her kidnapping and JJ's scary birth, and Johnny's death, Frank had changed significantly. On one hand, she saw how protective her was of her, how he worried and obsessed about her and JJ so much that he was driving her crazy; on the other hand, she knew how deeply he loved her and JJ, and she was so grateful for that. Since they'd met close to 13 years ago, she knew he would be the one and only great love of her life. She had never uttered the cliche expression "soulmate" to him or to anyone out loud, but he knew it; she knew it. And his loss would have been unfathomable.

For an independent person, she found it so crazy that, in her life, she had three men whom she, admittedly, she did depend on very much. Johnny had been able to protect her and had always listened at an extremely vulnerable time in her life; he'd given her back her confidence and helped her find her inner joy once again, and he'd stolen a piece of her heart forever; the only person, other than Frank, with whom she had fallen just a little bit in love, though it never would have gone anywhere. He had changed the course of her life in so many ways. But where they couldn't be IN love, they were WITH love, always, as they became the very best of friends; and she had adored him.

And she had to smile as she thought of Joe, with whom she had a shaky relationship, at best, for many, many years and who was now a dear friend who always made her laugh and could comfort and understand her very well. She both loved and hated his "tell it like it is" attitude, because Frank, though always honest with her, treated her with such tenderness, softened the edges around things that could hurt her. Joe would manage to shock her first and then help her deal with the consequences later, but he was always honest and never let her down. It always amazed her how similar Frank and Joe were in terms of values, yet how vastly different their personalities were.

She was thinking so hard she almost jumped when she saw Frank's reflection in the mirror beside her. She impulsively reached for her back and tried not to grimace at the pain. Uh oh. She wasn't up for this conversation yet.

He shocked her when he gently turned her around and touched her face lightly. She saw the pain in his eyes, watched the slight jump of the muscle in his jaw, when he saw her injuries. But he shockingly didn't say a word about them. "Come with me," he said tenderly to her, dropping his hand from her face and reaching for her own hand.

Caught completely off guard, she didn't say anything. The only thing that struck her was the silence of the house as he led her next door to JJ's nursery. She smiled, watching him sound asleep, so peaceful. "When did he come back?" she asked quietly.

"Early this morning," he responded in a low, somewhat raspy voice. "And he's fed and bathed and sound asleep, for at least a few hours- I hope!" He squeezed her hand and led her closer. He surprised her by putting her hand on JJ's back, gently, and then putting his hand over her own. She didn't know how he always knew how to calm her, but he always had. She closed her eyes for a minute, unexpectedly emotional, taking in the simple, beautiful moment.

Slowly, he withdrew both of their hands and then gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She was floored to see tears in his eyes. Frank never cried. "This is what life is about, Callie," he said, softly, voice tight with emotion. "That little boy and this other little baby you're carrying- they will be the best of us both. They were both conceived in love, and I know we both love them more than words will ever express. And they need their mommy, who their daddy loves… so much." He cleared his throat, and Callie felt her own eyes fill with tears. "So I will tell you only once and I will trust that you'll listen."

She nodded, having reached up to touch his cheek.

"You are in danger now. I feel it. There is no _rational e_ xplanation for it, but you know HE's back. And he wants my father more than anything. Nothing means more to my father than JJ- and his own wife and sons. And nothing means more to his sons than their wives. Joe will be talking to Vanessa today as well, but since JJ is here, I'm afraid, Cal. I wish I wasn't, but I am. I'm not trying to scare you. I'm not trying to drive you crazy. I know you need to breathe and I need to give you space. But you need to be vigilant because you are my _everything_ , and I will NOT lose you."

By now, Callie felt tears slip down her cheeks. Frank was still holding back his tears, but she was absolutely overwhelmed by the emotion in his eyes; in his voice.

"Okay," she managed, as Frank lifted a hand to wipe away the tears that had fallen. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll listen. I promise. I'll be okay."

"Good," Frank mouthed.

She leaned forward and rested her head against his broad chest as he held her, amazed, as always, by how perfectly they fit together. For Frank to be this emotional, this serious, based on nothing but gut instinct, was way out of character. But it was enough. And the fact that they were both here now, after what had happened yesterday, made her grateful beyond belief. She snuggled closer and buried her face in his chest, relishing the feeling of being in his arms and knowing they were okay.

After several minutes, she reluctantly pulled away slowly. To break the tension, she smiled, looking up at his handsome face that still made her heart flutter after all these years. "You never mention his name," she said quietly. "It's like Voldemort- you know, 'he who shall not be named'. Or have a nose." She winked.

Frank immediately burst out laughing, letting go of Callie for a minute as she covered his mouth to prevent him from waking the baby. "Shhh!" she cautioned and pulled him into the hallway.

He wrapped his arms around her again when he finally settled down. "Wow. I thought I was having kind of a weirdly romantic moment with you for a second."

She smiled. "We're parents now. We don't have romantic moments," she teased.

"Hmm," he said. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, and she could barely catch her breath; didn't want to. "Not true. You could be the Hermione to my Harry," he murmured breathlessly.

"No," she countered weakly as he continued to kiss her, slowly making his way to her neck, lingering there, and gently holding her against him. She moaned softly as she closed her eyes, lost in the moment, barely able to concentrate. "Harry married Ginny. Hermione ended up with Ron, who was like Harry's brother. It'd be like me ending up with Joe," she whispered.

Frank pulled back with a groan. "Cal, are you TRYING to make this the least romantic moment ever? I do NOT need that image in my mind."

Callie craved Frank's contact almost immediately and looked up at him from under raised lashes, blushing. "How much time do you have, Muggle?" she murmured, as she stood on tiptoe, pulled him close, and started kissing him passionately, adrenaline making her forget all pain. She felt only his desire, eager and and all-consuming.

"Enough," Frank replied huskily. "You nerd."

She lost herself in him as he lifted her in his arms and carried her down the hallway, entranced, as always, by Frank's magic touch.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later, Frank met up with his brother in front of the local jail. Their father was inside speaking with Chief Collig and Don Anllow, and they were getting ready to speak to the defendant in a few minutes.

Joe studied Frank with a curious eye. "You look like you're in a good mood," he quipped, curious about his brother's change of demeanor.

Frank smiled easily. "Yup. I am."

"Should I ask why?" Joe went on.

"Not at all," Frank replied, still smiling. Then, he redirected Joe, knowing that conversation had come to its natural ending point. "Did you talk to Vanessa?" he asked.

Joe nodded. "Yeah. I mean, she's nervous, but she's willing to do whatever it takes. I think Collig will have both she and Callie covered well. At least now, we're prepared. What about you? How's Callie?"

"We talked," he said, simply. _You could call it that._ "And she's doing better."

"Good," Joe replied, distracted. "She was really banged up."

Frank knew it was time to get serious. While his afternoon with Callie had been incredible, the fact remained that he couldn't shake the feeling that she was in danger; that JJ, above all, was in danger. And that thought was more than enough to make him subdued again. He hated- HATED- when he couldn't back anything up with proof; this was Joe's line of defense, and his brother was very good at it. But for him, it was unchartered territory, and it made him very uncomfortable.

"So what do we know?" Frank asked.

"We were earlier than you for once," Joe started, shooting Frank a surprised look again, "and we talked shop for a bit. Nothing too new, except that he still refuses the lawyer and wants to see us. The kid is 19; his name is Roy Grant. Everyone is inside, but dad DID say that he thought it would be okay if the two of us went in alone. He said it may throw him NOT to have dad there, which would be good. It's up to you."

Frank stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket and looked towards the sky. He felt Joe's hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay, Frank?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Frank replied, looking back down. "It's just hard to take on another case right now with Cotnig out there. I know I HAVE to- for Johnny-of course I would. I just don't want to get distracted and miss something that could be important with Cotnig, you know?" he finished.

"I have this, Frank. If you don't want it, or don't think it's wise that we're doing both cases, that's fine," he assured Frank. His brother had been having such a hard time, had changed so much in the last year. Joe just wanted to make him feel normal again. But until Cotnig was caught, that simply was not going to happen.

Frank gave Joe a gentle pat on the back. "Thanks, Joe. You're not always an insensitive oaf."

Joe chuckled. "You're too good to me, Frank. So, what do you want to do?"

"Let's go," Frank said, simply, and Joe nodded.

Joe had to wonder how people escaped these damned places. It was hard enough to get into, much less out of. Security cameras, metal detectors, more paperwork than it took to buy a house, IDs. He had to ask himself why there was such a fuss? How popular were these guys, anyway-were people lining up to visit them? It's like when he would call to pay a bill and would have to answer a million security questions just to get the stupid phone bill paid. Who the hell was going to go to all the trouble just to GIVE money away? Neither scenario made any sense.

Once they made it down the hall, the guard motioned them forward. "I'll be right here, in plain view, at all times." He opened the cell door.

A young man sat behind a table that had been set up for this meeting. He had light blonde hair and blue eyes, was pale, tall, and thin; but he looked as if he was almost scared. That had NOT been what Joe was expecting.

"Hello," he said shyly, in a southern accent, as Joe sat across from the table and Frank remained standing, arms crossed, with a scowl on his face.

"You wanted to see us?" Joe stated directly. Clearly, this was an interview that he was going to have to take the lead on, since Frank was forcing his hand to do so.

"Wow," the kid said, slowly, wide -eyed. "You're the Hardy brothers. I… I've heard lots about you. I… I can't believe you're really here."

"Of course you can believe it," Frank snapped. "You asked for us. Cut the shit. What do you want?"

Joe retained a neutral expression, though his brother had managed to shock him. Frank never snapped, rarely cursed, and was a much nicer person than he was coming across. _Then again, we're interviewing a murderer who just brought our good friend's name into things, so yeah. I get why he's pissed._ Joe was more curious than anything. The facts upon which he'd been briefed were fascinating, though he was also annoyed by the mention of Johnny. He watched the expression on Roy's face change for the most miniscule of seconds. It was gone so quickly that he couldn't be sure it had been there in the first place.

Roy looked at Frank first, then Joe. Everything about his mannerisms was slow, including his speech. The southern drawl didn't help. "I understand that you are confused, Mr. Hardy. Joe?" he asked.

"Frank," Frank spat back.

Joe wasn't about to undermine his brother, but this was going to be the world's most useless interview if Frank kept this behavior up.

"Why did you bring John Gellers's name into it?" Frank asked before Joe could even get in a word edgewise. He opened his eyes wide, shocked by Frank's behavior. "Because that's all I care about, you know. My wife and I set up the foundation that allowed for John's play to go on. The director, that YOU killed, was a personal friend of John's, and, so, he would be a friend of mine. So say what you want to say now because I have no interest in spending even one more second with you than necessary."

Joe stood and reached for his brother's arm, which Frank shook off immediately. Joe almost couldn't think. What was Frank doing?! The guard looked at Frank curiously as well.

Roy didn't look upset. He looked _defeated._ Something was off.

"Sir, I didn't do it. I… I promise I didn't," he drawled.

"Really," Frank replied, sardonically. "I guess you're headed to the right place then. No one in jail says they're guilty."

"Frank!" Joe cautioned. "We're here to see what Mr. Grant has to say, RIGHT?" he emphasized through clenched teeth as he glared at his brother. But, to his utter shock, Frank either didn't get the hint, or, more likely, completely blew him off.

"Is what you have to say that you didn't do it? Let me guess. You had a sudden blackout and you woke up and you were covered in blood and you were startled, cause you've always been a good kid, right?" Frank finished, sarcastically.

Roy looked up. "Yes, sir. That is actually correct. And I would implore your help in proving my innocence. I AM innocent."

"No, Roy," Frank replied venomously, bending closer to get in Roy's face. "You are not. What you are is a murderer and a lying sack of shit. I'm done with this! I'm sorry, Joe. I can't." He motioned for the guard to open the cell door and left immediately.

Joe was so shocked he couldn't move for several moments. What the hell had just happened? What- that wasn't his brother. He couldn't remember being left speechless before.

Roy's voice brought him back to the moment. "Sir? I'm terribly sorry to have caused a seeming rift with your brother. I… I had heard that you were both great detectives. You- and your dad. I did hear, and no disrespect is intended, that your brother could be somewhat of a hothead. I bore witness to that impression today."

Joe blushed. Well, yes. That was all true. But this time, the hothead was the wrong brother. He decided to deal with that later.

"Listen, Roy. I'm Joe- call me that. Let me be upfront with you. John Gellers was my friend. I may not have said it quite like my brother just did, but he's not wrong. I _do_ think you're guilty. But I'm willing to hear you out, because your argument makes no sense at all, but you're sticking to it. Why?"

"I… I know it doesn't seem to make sense… Joe," he stated slowly. "But I am appreciative of your time."

"What's your story?" Joe asked, bluntly.

"All I have is the truth, Joe," he managed.

"Yeah, yeah," Joe said, motioning with his finger to hurry up. "I know. Go on."

But Roy's manner of speaking didn't change at all. "I have always loved the theater," he said slowly. "And I wanted to be an actor. That's where I had heard of John Gellers. He came from nothing, and he rose to fame. That is the only connection I have to him, I swear it! And, well, he was there...before…" he stumbled over his words, then became serious, darker somehow. "And John Gellers was not a nice man."

Joe bit his lip. This guy was a lunatic. How did he even know Johnny? His demeanor was switching so quickly it was hard for Joe to know what was real. It would have been helpful to have Frank here.

"I have been over and over in my mind what they're saying I did. But-but I don't know," he hesitated. "I just don't believe I could have done something like that."

Joe sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. "You don't BELIEVE you could have done something like that?! You do know that you're reiterating the motive that the prosecution is going after you for. You wanted to be an actor. It was John's play. You didn't get the replacement role when you tried out and you killed the director. Plus, you know, DNA evidence and the fact that you were found by the body with the murder weapon isn't helping your cause."

"Please, I… I know all this," he said, raising his hands to run his hands through his hair in frustration. "I'm just attempting to tell you my story."

"Okay," Joe replied, sighing inwardly. "Go on."

"I have always wanted to be an actor, and then I decided that was going to follow my dream," he said, speaking slowly; carefully. "You probably already know this, but I was in foster care my whole life, bounced from place to place. It was a very bad place. They were all bad places. Bad things happened. I had no one to ground me. You MUST understand. This dream to act was mine alone, cultivated and developed by me. No one helped."

Joe nodded. All this was true; he knew the background. "So I started studying on my own, and my dream became one day to work as a great Shakespearean actor, on stage, and master Broadway."

Joe cut in. "You have a southern accent. You're from Louisiana. How the hell did you expect to become a Shakespearean actor?"

Roy looked at him seriously; it was almost unnerving. "Great actors can perfect fake accents and create personas, Joe. That's what I was trying to do."

Joe studied him. What was off? "You know," Joe said directly, "for a fairly uneducated person, you speak well."

"I study language, Joe. I love words, words, words." He started laughing. "You don't get it?" he asked Joe. "It's funny. 'Words, words, words.'* That's from _Hamlet._ That was the role that John Gellers was going to play in the modern version of the play. That's the role I wanted, too. But I didn't get it. So I killed the director." His smile was tilted.

Joe gasped and stood up. "What?"

Roy looked up at him, appearing confused. "What?" he echoed.

"You- you just said-"Joe stammered.

"I was just putting an 'antic disposition'* on, Joe. That's from _Hamlet,_ too". He stood up as well, and the guard outside was on high alert. "I could have been amazing, you understand. Contemplative. But I didn't get the role," he said, switching demeanor again, angrier. "So I became a stagehand. And I tried to do everything right. I tried to please him, you know?"

"Who?" Joe asked.

"The DIRECTOR," Roy answered. "And John Gellers before he died."

'What?" Joe asked. His mind was whirling. Up until now, he didn't even know the guy knew Johnny.

"You don't know what they want did to me!" he started shouting, crying. "Oh Godddd," he wailed, hitting the wall. "They made me! They MADE me! Sex- crazed animals! Men, women- it didn't matter! Utter debauchery!" he shouted.

Then he started laughing suddenly. "So I'm glad _he_ died. I'm glad they _both_ died. 'ALAS, POOR YORICK. I KNEW HIM- I KNEW _THEM-_ WELL!"* he carried on maniacally. "But I DIDN'T DO IT. I didn't! Please. Help me. Understand. I didn't do it! I didn't mean to do it!"

Joe banged on the door and the guard let him out immediately, ushering in another guard to help restrain Roy. He ran outside as quickly as he could, sweating, heart pounding, unable to think.

 _I didn't do it. I didn't MEAN to do it. They made me._ They made him what?! He didn't like the implication, knew Johnny well enough to know that what was being implied HAD to be false. He had to clear Johnny's name and prove it, though. He couldn't let the press run with a sex scandal attached to his friend's name.

That HAD to be it. But a small part of him had other doubts. The kid was crazy. Obviously. But what if he really had been abused by the director? He hated to bring a dead man's name into anything, but just- what if? What if the kid really didn't know what he was doing? Or what if foster care abuse, if it was true, made him snap? Or what if he did know what he was doing, and he was blinded by revenge against a director who may have hurt him? There were too many holes here; too many angles that still needed exploration. And if any of these questions were true: Could he morally allow a mentally incompetent person NOT to have an attorney? And if the answer to that was no- was he about to help form a defense for a murderer who defamed the person who saved Vanessa? Because his instinct was telling him that something was very wrong here.

He started shaking slightly. Was he about to cross paths with Frank and, for the first time in his life, be on opposite sides of a case? It was a possibility for which he was entirely unprepared.

...and which he knew was about to happen.

*William Shakespeare's _Hamlet_


	7. Chapter 7

**Note** : _I'm so grateful for everyone reading and following this story. I also want to thank the following people who have left reviews since the last chapter: Caranath, hbndgirl, max2013, Paulina Ann, ulstergirl, hlahabibty, Hero 76, EvergreenDreamweaver, BMSH, LaurieQ, BeeBee18, bhar and Erin Jordan. Your support and feedback truly means so much. A lot of you commented on the fact that Frank is acting out of character. Yes, he is. All will be explained. :)_

 _Warning : Mild cursing. This chapter begins a major issue for the brothers. _

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 7

The next evening, Joe sat glumly in his kitchen staring at the pattern on a towel, decorated with a turkey for Thanksgiving, which would be coming up next week. He had much to be thankful for, especially this year, he knew. He just hoped that it would be the joyous family celebration they always had, given the Cotnig situation and, he knew, what could be a potentially volatile situation with his brother. He hadn't spoken to him at all after they had separated at the jail the other day, making for some awkward explanations to his father and Chief Collig about what had happened. He'd kept explanations to a minimum, needing time to think.

Somehow, he'd managed to avoid seeing Frank at work today, too, as Frank had been investigating more about Cotnig, holed up in his office studying surveillance video from their office break-in and god knew what else. Their dad had seemed to sense some tension and had raised his hands in a questioning gesture to him, but he'd shrugged back. It was a little too early to tattle to his daddy about his older brother- he actually got paid to deal with his brother now.

Then, out of the blue, Callie had texted Vanessa asking if she and Frank could visit tonight - and they'd bring dinner. Vanessa had been excited, always happy to see them and little JJ, but Joe's senses were on high alert. Why would Frank have avoided him all day- and, admittedly, he'd done the same- and then come over at night? It didn't make sense.

The doorbell rang promptly at 6:00, and he heard Vanessa bound to the front of the house. He stood in the kitchen entrance.

"Hey!" Vanessa called, reaching to give Frank and Callie hugs. Frank had JJ in his car seat carrier and raised one finger to his lips while he placed the seat in the entryway.

"Hey, Van!" Callie greeted her. "JJ just fell asleep. Car rides do that a lot to him. Believe me, I have no problem with you waking him up in an hour. In fact, please do, or he'll be up all night."

As Vanessa bent down to touch the baby's cheek, Joe watched Callie look up at Frank and give him a small nod and squeeze his hand. He suppressed a smile. So Callie WAS behind this. Fine with him.

Frank looked up and gave Joe a quick wave while he started talking to Vanessa. Callie took off her coat and grabbed two bags filled with food, which Joe hurried over to help her with. She followed him into the kitchen and placed the bags on the table, then gave him a wry smile.

"Good thing your sister- in-law knows how to play nice," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I feel like I'm getting a little too old to intervene in sibling fights, although I guess it's good practice," she added, placing a hand on her stomach.

Joe rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek. "Okay. You win. I don't know what Frank told you, but we DO really need to talk. Thanks, sis."

"You're welcome," Callie replied pleasantly.

"What'd you bring?" he asked, starting to rummage through the pages.

"Italian all the way," Callie replied with a smile. "And, may I add, it's all made from scratch, since Frank has me stranded at home and working on the Foundation from there. I happen to have free time on my hands when JJ is sleeping. So, lasagna, meatballs, garlic knots, homemade salad, and mozzarella sticks for an appetizer it is. Plus, I made an Italian Orange Cake and cannolis for dessert."

Joe felt his stomach growl. Callie was one of the best cooks he knew, as good as his own mom with some of her dishes. "You did all this for us?" he asked her, touched, as he helped her unpack.

"Sure. It was fun," she added nonchalantly. "And since Van and I can't enjoy the wine, I brought some beers for you and my husband. I have a feeling you'll need some." She winked at him.

Suddenly, Joe took her hand. "How are YOU feeling?" he asked her. It had only been a few days since the accident, and her bruises were still very visible.

"I'm okay," she answered gratefully. "Really. I had a wicked headache the first day, but it's subsiding every day. A little cramping. I just need a little help lifting things. If I twist the wrong way, my back kills me," she admitted. "It's very hard to lift the baby, even. I need to start working out again," she added. "Really. I miss it. UGH. Pregnancy is tough."

"Well, you're little," he added.

"But I am fierce,"* she joked.

Joe groaned. "Cal, I've had enough Shakespeare jokes for awhile," he told her, and, when she was puzzled, he finished, "Never mind." Suddenly, it hit him that the conversation that he was going to have with Frank was going to affect her as well, and he didn't know what to say.

"You okay, Joe?" she asked softly, sensing his change in demeanor.

He took a deep breath."Cal, I… I just want you to know that I need to talk to Frank about something important, and you may hear about it. I want you to know that I would never do anything to hurt you, okay? That would never be my intent."

"Okay," she said simply. "I'm confused, but I know that."

"Frank married up," he told her, relieved. "You're okay, Shaw." He squeezed her hand. Together, they started prepping for dinner.

Two hours later, dinner was done and Joe sat back, stomach full. Dinner conversation had been light and had avoided work, giving Joe enough time to think of how to have the real conversation with Frank. The three beers he'd downed would certainly not hurt, either. Frank, he'd noticed, had kept up with him.

"Oh my god. That was amazing," he said, sitting back in his chair. He let out a long belch.

"Classy," Frank said dryly.

"Hey, if this was Japan, it'd be an insult not to belch after a meal," he retorted.

"I'd venture to guess that you'd probably be avoiding Italian food there, too," Vanessa joked.

Since JJ was still sound asleep, much to Callie's chagrin, she suggested that Vanessa come and chat in the kitchen as they got ready for dessert. As she got up, she gave Frank a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and a soft kiss. "Good luck," she whispered in his ear, and he nodded.

"Living room?" Joe asked, gesturing to the right.

"Sure," Frank agreed.

As soon as they sat down, they looked at each other. "So," they said at the same time.

Frank smiled. "Joe, I-" he started, and then his phone started ringing. "Hello?" he said, right after he mouthed "Sorry" at Joe. Joe watched his brother's face fall as he rubbed his temple. "Wait. What? Okay. Yeah. I don't know. Don't worry. Uh huh. Okay. Send a picture to my phone, and keep it. We'll get it to Collig tomorrow. I'm on it. Yeah, I will. I'll talk to him. Night."

"What's wrong?" Joe asked, concerned.

Frank sighed before answering. "That was Don Anllow. Guess who got poem #4 today?"

"Don?!" Joe asked, shocked. "What? Why?"

"Well, let's see. Anthony, Biff, Chet, Don. A,B,C,D- the norm. You'd think he would get more creative at this point," Frank added, bitterly. "And everyone knows dad. Don was starting to talk to dad about the Grant case. I don't know. Same method- front door. One message per day starting Sunday. Now Collig is going to have to send patrols for him." Frank's phone beeped. "Here we go. Take a look." He handed the cell phone with the picture of the message, now on green paper. **Is cause for revenge enough? For some, thanks,/ Method dying? Not so for your father."**

"Now I'm getting pissed," Joe said angrily. "We need to look at these closely with dad and Collig, but it looks like this is directed at me- or you- or both of us. I have a real problem with the "dying" and "your father" part. Maybe we can talk over Thanksgiving?" he asked.

Despite himself, Frank managed a smile. "Joe, I'd almost take Cotnig right now face to face than to endure mom's wrath if we ruin her Thanksgiving."

"Truth," Joe agreed. "You're right. Maybe we can talk to dad tomorrow about this. He needs to know. So does the Chief. I'll text dad now about this to be safe, okay. But tomorrow? Agreed?"

Frank nodded as Joe texted his father and copied Collig. "Agreed," Frank said.

"I don't even know where to begin this time," Joe admitted. "We need to get him."

"We will," Frank assured him."We need to. I… I can't go through this again, Joe," he added quietly.

Joe nodded in understanding. Here was his opening. Frank was being himself and a little vulnerable with him. "Frank-" he started, but Frank cut him off.

"Joe, I apologize. I acted completely out of character the other day," Frank said, eyes sincere and ashamed. "I've never left you alone in an interview when we're both supposed to be present, and I let my emotions rule. I'm sorry. To be totally honest with you, I'm all out of sorts. This Cotnig case is eating at me. I keep thinking about what happened in March." He looked down before continuing. "I'm worried about Callie and JJ. I can't shake this feeling that something bad will happen."

"Based on what?" Joe asked, and then he laughed.

Frank looked up, and Joe saw he'd hurt him. Frank was rarely expressive like this, and Joe feared he'd cause him to clam up again. He immediately apologized and reached over to the second couch to squeeze Frank's arm. "Hey. I didn't mean to laugh. I understand what you're saying, and I'm sorry. Thank you for telling me."

Frank looked up, still slightly red. Joe felt bad. "I was laughing because you were talking about feelings and I was talking about logic and that's honestly all. I thought we switched places for a second. I know you're worried. So am I."

"Okay," Frank responded. "Yeah, I don't like it, either. I'm uncomfortable in feelings land, and you're a dunce, so logic often eludes you."

Joe grinned. "I'll accept your insult because I _was_ kind of a dunce there."

Frank smiled back and shook his head disdainfully. "So was I at the jail. I'm sorry, too. I just couldn't believe that guy. His story is ridiculous, out of a bad movie. I can't stand liars and knowing what he did with Johnny's name…." He shuddered. "I hope he rots in hell."

Joe sucked in a deep breath. It was now or never. "Actually," Joe began cautiously, "I think there may be more than meets the eye here."

The smile slowly fell from Frank's face. He looked shocked. "What do you mean?"

Joe proceeded carefully. "When you left, he… uh… mentioned some interesting things that I think need to be checked out."

"What things?" Frank asked, and Joe saw he was trying to control his emotion, something he normally had no problem doing. Joe felt like he was treading water here.

"Well," he started again, "He was talking, and his personality changed. Several times."

Frank just stared, silent. Joe squirmed under his brother's glare.

"And he claims that he didn't do it. But then he admitted he _did_ do it. It's just that, I mean, I think there's a backstory here that needs to be checked out. He's unstable."

"Of COURSE he's unstable Joe. I could see that in a second. He's a murderer. What's the problem?" Frank's voice was just a bit tighter than it had been, and Joe noticed that he had crossed his arms.

"I think he may- MAY- have been abused…" he started, but Frank cut right through him.

"I don't give a rat's ass if he was abused. There are lots of abused kids, and they don't kill people."

Joe found himself getting defensive. Frank was making him sound like an idiot, but he wasn't one. "Frank," he said, his voice rising, "there's some indication that maybe- PERHAPS- the abuse came at the hands of Jack Johnson. And he mentioned something about Johnny, too- which I know isn't true- but I have to try to clear his name."

By now, the anger was visible on Frank's face. Callie and Vanessa had come to the kitchen doorway, and they looked at each other, concerned.

"WHAT did that homicidal maniac suggest about Johnny that you feel a need to check out?" Frank seethed.

"I told you that I know it's not true!" Joe shouted back.

"WHAT did he say?" Frank repeated, on the edge.

Joe felt the color rise to his cheeks. "He said that Johnny and Jack Johnson - may have somehow forced him and others, I assume, to engage in some forced sex activity in order to work their way up for parts on the stage and screen."

Joe saw Frank's face drain of color; heard Callie gasp; saw Vanessa's shocked expression.

"Are you F*cking kidding me?!" Frank yelled, and, in the background, they heard JJ start to cry, the noise having awakened him. He followed up with a string of expletives so altogether unlike him that even Joe was temporarily shocked. "How DARE you even PRETEND to listen to that crock of shit. I… I can't even believe this!"

"Shut up, Frank! YOU are being an ASS right now. I TOLD YOU I don't believe it, okay? Of COURSE I don't believe it. Johnny was my friend."

"Then WHY are you even mentioning it?" Frank countered.

"Because," Joe shouted, barely keeping control, "I think a mentally unstable person has the right to a proper criminal defense team. And I think- I have a feeling- that maybe there's some truth to what he's saying and why he acted like he did. So I'm recommending to the Court that he be appointed a lawyer, and I'll investigate the claims. That's it."

By now, JJ was wailing.

Frank's face was completely red. "So, you're saying that you want the person who killed Johnny's personal friend to have a lawyer, even though he waived his right."

"Yes," Joe replied, digging his fingernails into his hand.

"And you know damned well that, if you push this issue, the press is going to run with it and drag Johnny's name through the mud."

"Until I clear it," Joe argued.

"Bullshit," Frank spat out. "No one cares about facts anymore. Once that rumor is out, you've opened Pandora's Box. And Johnny NEVER talked about his sexuality. His private life was private. You'd risk all that… you'd do that to the man who saved Vanessa and Callie's life?... for a psychopath?"

Joe swallowed hard. "It's the right thing to do," he said at last. "Everyone deserves the right to be heard, for the truth to come out."

"Well good F*cking luck," Frank retorted, furious. "Because you're on your own. And I will fight you every step of the way." He spun on his heel, and headed for the kitchen, grabbing his jacket and Callie's and picking up JJ's car seat, trying to ignore JJs heartbreaking wailing. "Come on Callie!" he yelled as he opened the front door and proceeded to slam it shut as he exited.

Vanessa, stunned, headed for Joe. To her shock, so did Callie.

Callie looked up at him, and he felt his own eyes burn as he saw the tears streaming down Callie's face. "Please, Joe," she said quietly. She never asked anything of him, and he felt awful. He would never want to hurt her; she had to understand.

"Please don't do this." She was struggling for words. "Joe, I understand what you're saying," she said, very slowly, lips quivering, "And I know you think you're doing the right thing. I'll try to talk to Frank and make him see that," she said. "But YOU need to understand what HE'S saying." She met his eyes, fighting sobs, holding onto her back. Vanessa just looked away.

"Joe," she continued, voice shaking, "This isn't just anybody. This is my best friend. I… I can't let his name be tarnished. You don't understand why I can't let this happen. Johnny was loving and kind and brave and good, and-"

"I know, Cal," he managed.

"I loved him, Joe. I LOVE him. I can't allow you to do this. I won't." She looked pale and shaky. "And I cannot support your decision at all. Please understand."

"I do," he mouthed. The pain in her eyes was killing him.

"If you go ahead with this, you're drawing the line between you and Frank...and me, too. And you can't go back."

"I know," he barely managed. Tears shone in his eyes. "And I'm sorry, Cal. But I need to do it. It's only right."

Callie looked at him a moment longer. "Okay," she choked out. "Goodbye, Joe."

She turned and walked slowly, stunned, to the door, opened it, and stopped for a moment. She took a shaky breath. And didn't look back.

"Oh, Joe," Vanessa cried, wrapping her arms around him. "Do you HAVE to do this?"

"Yes," he managed, tears falling at last.

"Okay," she choked out. "I'm here for you, babe," she muttered. "But I'm scared."

"Me, too," he answered and took her in his arms, holding her tightly.

The line had been drawn.

*William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act III, scene 2.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note** : _I cannot thank you all enough for your feedback on the last chapter. I love how some of you are Team Joe and some of you are Team Frank- but almost all of you can see the opposite point of view, and understand that, just like in real life, more often than not, there can be multiple "right" sides to truth, which is, after all, subjective many times. And there is a lot more to Frank's behavior than meets the eye- it will all be explored as the story moves on. This chapter and the next one, among other things, focus on Frank (here) and Joe (next chapter) as they work through their beliefs with their father, an infinitely patient man who needs to stick up for both of his sons. Enjoy!_

 _Thanks so much to ulstergirl for your review on chapter 6, and hbndgirl, ErinJordan, Paulina Ann, hlahabibty, EvergreenDreamweaver, max2013, Hero 76, Caranath, BeeBee18, BMSH, and TinDog for your reviews on chapter 7- I so appreciate your time and feedback!_

 _Warning : Very mild cursing._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 8

The next morning at work, Frank laid his head down on his arms at his desk and closed his eyes. Maybe if he fell asleep he could forget this whole nightmare. He had two goals for the day: work on the clues from the Cotnig case, as he was more concerned now than ever about his father, Callie, and JJ, and avoid Joe at all costs. He didn't trust himself to be around his brother right now. It was too painful.

Last night, Callie had driven home, since he had been drinking, but he didn't regret it. Those beers had probably mellowed him just enough not to have murdered his brother. It had been a hell of a night. JJ, upset by the noises and frightened, had been up all night crying, completely inconsolable, and he and Callie had tried everything to get him to settle down, until, at 4:30 in the morning, he finally fell asleep.

Neither he nor Callie had spoken a word to each other the entire evening once they left Joe and Vanessa's house. There had been too much and nothing to say at exactly the same time. He knew that she was afraid to say anything that would hurt him, given that Joe was his brother, and her own heart was breaking. He knew that she felt as though she had failed Johnny, and she was devastated. For his own part, he was physically ill at Joe's betrayal, his stomach in knots. He felt incredibly guilty that he had failed to protect Callie's heart- again- and the source of that pain had been his own brother. And Johnny, one of his dearest friends, was going to pay the price. It didn't matter if he was alive; he deserved so much better. The guilt was killing him.

But when JJ had finally, FINALLY stopped wailing, and the house was once again silent, he was alone only for a moment when Callie had suddenly appeared from the living room, having laid JJ down in his pack and play. He only had two hours before he had to get up for work, not enough time to bother to try to sleep. Their had eyes met, and they'd clung to each other, instinctively melted into each other's arms, filled with the overwhelming, urgent need to be as close as possible, their passionate physical intimacy a demonstration of the love, connection, understanding, and solace that they both desperately needed which conveyed those emotions far more than words could ever express. It was their own beautiful, safe world, and it was more than enough. And until he'd left her, the only word uttered between them all night was his name, whispered so softly from her lips. But it had been enough. He'd understood. Even now, he missed holding her in his arms, felt her absence acutely. Had it not been for his wife, who knew him so well and understood his needs more than he did, he didn't know how the night would have been bearable.

"Frank? You awake, son?"

He heard his father's voice and lifted his head off the desk, forcing himself to sit up. He accepted the cup of coffee his dad had somehow known to bring and took a long, slow sip.

"Thanks," he managed with a small smile, staring at the steam rising from the cup.

"How are you doing, Frank?" Fenton asked, and Frank knew immediately that his dad was up to something. "Long night I take it?"

"Something like that," Frank responded evenly, absently playing with the coffee stirrer.

"How's my grandson?" he continued, and Frank shrugged, still unable to meet his dad's eyes for some reason.

"Like you said, it was a long night."

Fenton sighed, and Frank finally looked up when he felt his father's hand cover his own. "Frank, I know what happened," Fenton said, gently. "Vanessa called your mom this morning, very early, completely distraught about the fight you had with your brother. She told mom everything, and mom told me."

"I'm sure she told you Joe's side," he mumbled, feeling a blush come to his cheeks, whether from knowing his sounded like a petulant child or because of the anger at Joe still very much at the surface, he didn't know.

"Actually," Fenton replied, voice still caring and not letting go of Frank's hand, "I think she gave mom a pretty accurate assessment of what went down. I'm sorry. I know you must be hurting."

Frank slid his hand from his father's and stood, still completely confused and upset. "How could he, Dad?" he found himself asking. "That's Johnny's memory. This will KILL Callie," he felt his voice shaking, "and it's the ultimate betrayal. How could he do this to his friend, one of MY best best friends? HOW?" he demanded, struggling to control himself.

Fenton looked down a moment before answering, and Frank waited. He respected his father immensely and desperately needed his insight. "Son," he said heavily, "Joe is a lot of things. I know he's impulsive, and I know you think that partly that's it. Maybe it is, but I don't think so. Not this time."

Frank waited, hanging on every word. "There's too much at stake here for it to be impulsivity, and I'm willing to bet that he has done nothing BUT think since he made his decision. Joe wears his heart on his sleeve; he always has. He relies on instinct- admittedly, too much- but when he finds a cause, he champions it. I haven't spoken with him yet, but, based on what Vanessa said, I think he really believes that he's doing the right thing. He truly believes that this man is mentally incompetent, and that he's therefore incapable of waiving his right to an attorney. You know what? Legally, your brother is correct. The state of New York has upheld it. Based on the Indiana vs. Edwards case*, the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that under certain circumstances, the court can deny a defendant the right to waive an attorney if it has the potential to harm the defendant." He knew appealing to Frank's sense of logic was probably the correct way to handle this.

"Dad, did you just pull that out of your ass… butt?," he corrected himself. "How on earth would you know that?"

"I have my sources," Fenton replied with a smile.

"There's no way Joe knew that when he made his decision," Frank pointed out.

"Well, he's always been a good guesser," Fenton replied with a shrug. "In any case, the fact remains."

"So why wouldn't Joe just leave it up to the court?" Frank challenged. "He's pushing the issue- I bet he already went to court today," Frank added bitterly.

"I'm sure he did," Fenton answered, "because he's not back here yet. The answer to your question is that, in Joe's mind, what if the court missed it? An injustice would have been done. Especially when he believes that this kid just might have suffered abuse, and can you blame a person for his or her actions if he or she is not aware of them?" Fenton asked.

"Yes," Frank responded honestly. "Because we don't even know if this guy IS insane or is mentally incompetent. Who is Joe to make that determination? These guys- they're actors. For God's sake, this guy LITERALLY is an actor. And we've been around the block, dad. You know how they lie, and I'm telling you- this guy is lying." Frank bit back more, trying to break this down in small chunks to think things through.

"Well, now- how do you know that?" his dad asked him. "Let's be fair. You got angry, because this case has touched a chord with you. You left Joe alone with the guy."

Frank's face flushed. "I know," he mumbled.

"Son, I get it. I'm not blaming you for that. What I am saying is that Joe spent longer with him than you did. If there's a shred of doubt, go back yourself. Also, to answer your other point, Joe will not determine who is mentally competent. A court appointed psychiatrist will do that. Joe is only guilty of putting his heart before his head. If the abuse allegations are true and the guy is incompetent, then Joe just wants to make sure he gets a fair trial. That's it."

Frank walked slowly to the window. It was a bright, warm day, another one uncharacteristic of this time of year. Actually, he thought despondently, many things are out of character now. His dad's words made sense, but he couldn't agree with him. Not now; not ever.

Finally, he turned back to his father. "No, Dad," he said quietly. "Joe's guilty of a lot more than that. He's working to aid the defense of a man who killed a friend of Johnny's, when he could have just let it alone and trusted in the judicial system. He's calling to light the question of mental competency, which may have never come into play- and he is therefore almost begging the court to find someone innocent of a crime who, I am telling you, is guilty. He is willing to entertain a bullshit story of abuse that will make its way to the press and DESTROY Johnny's name, even when it's found to have no credence. I will bet my life on that. Above all, he put the fate of a lowlife, degenerate, manipulative murderer above the reputation of an incredible person, and, in the process, he's destroying his relationship with my wife, child, and me. He needed to have left well enough alone, Dad." Frank's voice was unsteady. "And I'm not wrong."

Fenton went to Frank and hugged him tightly. No, Frank wasn't wrong. But in putting the truth and his pride before his relationship with his brother, Frank was destroying his own life. And sometimes, the "truth", whatever that was, just simply wasn't worth its consequences.

"I love you, Frank. You do what you need to do. But know your brother is going to do what he needs to do as well. You need to try to move past this." He rubbed his back in comfort.

"How?" Frank managed, head resting on his father's shoulder. "He betrayed Johnny, me… above all, Callie. You… you don't understand. I can't let this one go."

Fenton stepped back and squeezed Frank's shoulder comfortingly. "In time you have to. You're best friends. You're brothers. You love each other. So I can't tell you HOW, but there's your WHY."

Frank sighed heavily. Maybe time would heal this wound. But, maybe not. And that thought cut him to the core.

"Want to go over the Cotnig case now?" Frank asked, changing the subject. It was too much right now to deal with Joe.

Fenton shrugged. "Sadly, there's not too much to go on. Let's quickly write down what we know, okay?"

Frank looked at his father. "Dad, YOU are the target here. So is Ezra Collig. You don't seem worried in the least. Why? Because I'm VERY worried," he admitted.

"Oh, I'm worried, son," he answered, contemplative. "But not for me and Ezra. Not yet. It's coming, but the puzzle he creates isn't done yet. In the meantime, yes- I'm scared to death. I almost lost you the other day; we almost lost Callie; we could have lost JJ if he was in that car." His voice trembled a bit.

Frank nodded, his chest constricting again at the mention of his worst fear. He took a deep breath before speaking. "All right. Let's see what we know. There have been four messages so far," he started, but Fenton cut in. "Five," he said. "This morning, Ezra received one. I'm sure I'm next tomorrow-it fits the damned pattern. Maybe Ezra's and mine will have more significance. Who knows?" Let's take a look:

(Red- Tony- Anthony) Though precious moments do head your way now/ This time I will say that they will not last

(Orange- Biff) Be so vigilant; do not ask for how/ Madness fleeting really remains a mask.

(Yellow- Chet) Yet will you question why I act so frank? /There eventually you will bother.

(Green- Don) Is cause for revenge enough? For some, thanks,/ Method dying? Not so for your father.

"Add Ezra's," Fenton noted, and popped open the screen on his old flip phone that he still insisted on carrying despite his sons' mockery. Frank had to give a small smile seeing it again.

5\. **(Red- Ezra) In fact, in due time, the young and bright sun/ It, your guiding star, will finally die out."

"Uplifting," Fenton said without humor.

Frank shook his head after studying the messages for several minutes. "I really don't know," he said with a sigh. "I get basic messages, like, you know, you're going to die, something about being mad, there might be a pun on "Frank" and "son". Yeah, this guy is a barrel of laughs," Frank added, sighing. "It's got some rhyme in it. I actually thought the colors were important, but they're repeating now, so they may not be," he spoke, more to himself than anything. "Maybe the actual messages in the lines are where the meaning is, or maybe it's just nonsense to make us think. Dad, I don't have a clue."

"Let's try another angle," Fenton suggested. "Ignore the messages. What else do we know?"

"Uh- they were delivered one day apart despite police presence. Maybe there's a rogue cop?" Frank asked, worried.

"Nah," Fenton replied, brushing it off. "I know these officers. They're good people, and Collig knows them well, too. But you raise an interesting point. How could Cotnig be working alone? Too much has happened too soon, and he's conspicuous as hell with his burns. Let's look into that."

"Hmmm, that reminds me," Frank said thoughtfully. "Did we get a print on the aspirin bottle? You know the alarm system went out- and by that I mean, was sabotaged- the night before. There's no surveillance footage. It's ironic that a detective's place gets broken into, huh?"

Fenton just nodded. "Hold on," he added. He left the office to come back only a few minutes later. "The report was in my office. There was a partial print- it's being traced now and run through the system to see if we can get a hit."

"Shit," Frank groaned. "He IS working with someone else."

When he saw his dad staring at him, it made him uncomfortable. "What? Did I miss something?" he asked.

"Yeah. Your course on etiquette. I'm no angel, and God knows Joe is a hundred times worse, but watch the language. Keep going like this and you'll slip at Thanksgiving. Your mother is NOT afraid to use pots and pans as weapons against you, especially since you have a little one who, she will fear, you will unduly influence as he grows up." He winked.

Frank blushed. His dad was right. Unbeknownst to most people, except for his parents, Joe, Callie, and maybe the occasional sports friend, he could have a pretty bad temper sometimes and slip pretty quickly into courser language. Joe got a bad rap for it, and admittedly, that reputation came from somewhere, but Frank knew he had that capability, too. He had his dad's logic and sense of humor; Joe took more after Laura, with her impulsivity and generally fun nature. But they both had a mix of everything, and it took a lot for him to snap, but, when he did, he was way worse than Joe to deal with. He knew it, and would work on it. His dad was right. He needed to lead by example for his babies.

"Sorry, dad," he agreed. "Shucks and gee whiz."

Fenton snorted. "Okay, wise guy. On a more serious note, Cotnig is working with someone else- at least- and we need to figure out who and how. Any word on Callie's car?"

Frank's good mood diminished again. "She was right. It was the brakes." He looked into the distance for a minute. "Dad, I can't shake this feeling… if something happens to Cal… or J-"

"I know," Fenton cut him off, empathetic. "Be cautious, but don't panic. "They're well guarded- they're well loved. And they WILL be okay. Nothing like being in love and then having a child to turn your whole world upside down, huh? Changes you forever."

"It does," Frank agreed softly.

Fenton looked out the window. "Your brother is back. And I think we need to have a little chat."

Frank's eyes darkened. "I'm going to the jail and have a little talk myself with that asshole…"

Fenton stared at him.

"That BAD MAN," Frank corrected himself, "who has been naughty. Better?"

"Better," Fenton smiled back. "Much."

As Frank left, Fenton took a deep breath. While Frank was tough, he was reasonable. Joe was a firestorm of emotions.

The conversation was not going to be easy.

*This is an actual court decision.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** _I am beyond thrilled and so very grateful for the lovely comments that were left on the last chapter. I'm posting this a day early because it is the counterpart to the previous chapter. The story is just warming up, really. There is much to go with the actual mysteries, but, to get there, the brothers need to start examining what their personal convictions are and what price they're willing to pay to hold true to them. And it's hard- because they really are both right (and wrong). Just as Fenton had to defend Joe to Frank in the last chapter, he has to defend Frank to Joe here. Enjoy!_

 _No warnings! Haha. But thanks so much to ulstergirl, bhar, LaurieQ, hbndgirl, Hero 76, Caranath, EvergreenDreamweaver, max 2013, BeeBee 18, Paulina Ann, Erin Jordan, BMSH, Hlababibty, and TinDog for your reviews since the last chapter. You make a difference in my day!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 9

Joe came back into his office, sipping coffee, and immediately shut the door. He'd stopped at the courthouse this morning to see what he could do about getting Roy Grant evaluated, and the process had begun.

He sat down at his desk and looked at the breakfast sandwiches he had bought, as he always bought two or three at a time. But, since last night, he'd had no appetite. In fact, when he had gone into the kitchen to get another beer last night, praying that he could get drunk enough to pass out, he'd come across the desserts that Callie had brought over, which had taken her so much time and which she'd brought over so joyfully, happy to have been able to mend the strain in his relationship with Frank. If only she'd known how much worse it could get. The sight of those sweets, made for him, mainly, with so much hope and love by Callie, had almost brought him to tears. He'd had a bottle of water instead.

Vanessa had been his rock last night, as she always was. Normally, he tried to keep her as far away from his cases as possible, but this time it couldn't be helped. He'd half expected her to hate him like Frank and Callie did at the moment. After all, she not only liked Johnny so much, too, but she also had been with him in those agonizing days leading to his death, had borne witness to his bravery. And, prior to that, she had always had the biggest crush on him, until she got to know him… and then she had an even _bigger_ crush on him. She had every reason to be angry with him, but she wasn't.

She'd stayed up with him all night, talking, listening, comforting him. She'd held him, wiped back the tears he couldn't help but let fall, gave him a dose of reality when he needed it, and reinforced his convictions other times. She couldn't totally understand how deeply this decision rocked him, but she tried, and she was terrified of losing Frank and especially Callie, her best friend. But she didn't try to make him change his mind, and he was reminded how lucky he was, how truly exceptional their love was. She and their precious child were his life.

But what kind of life would they have without their aunt and uncle? He and Frank had talked all the time about how excited they were for JJ and his brother or sister to be so close to his own child. What if that didn't happen now? The thought of not having a real relationship with his brother tore at his heart, and, secondary, the loss of his sister, Callie, would have been pretty damned awful, too. But at least he worked with Frank, could maybe try to get him to see his point of view. Above all, though, the thought that he wouldn't see JJ KILLED him. He loved his nephew more than words could say, had vowed that every screw up he'd ever had with Frank he could somehow fix through having the perfect relationship with Frank's son. JJ's third word, behind "mama" and "dada", had been "unca", for HIM, and he was so proud of that.

Normally, he wouldn't even think that Frank or Callie would keep him away from JJ, and he was letting his imagination run wild, prematurely assuming it. But this was no petty argument. He was doing the right thing- he knew it; felt it- but he had deeply hurt Callie, and, by extension, Frank, in the process. It was the last thing he would ever have wanted. He loved his brother, sister- in-law, and nephew profoundly, but this was a line that had been drawn. He didn't have the magic eraser for it.

Before he could contemplate the sorry state of affairs more, his door opened and his father entered, looking serious.

"Would you like to come in?" Joe asked, unable to resist sarcasm. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture right now. He knew that Vanessa had called his mom earlier, and he wasn't even mad about it- that was her right to do so, and it was probably better they knew anyway what was going on. A part of him was even relieved that he didn't need to be the one to tell them. He just couldn't deal with it yet.

"I would, indeed," his dad answered, "and given the fact that I pay the mortgage on the place, if I'd like to sit on your desk and physically juggle your case files and pictures, I'll do that, too."

Joe closed his eyes and cursed his fate. This was not starting off well. "Yes, sir," he answered finally. He could push his dad pretty far, but not that far. He knew when he was crossing a line, and he was damned close now.

Fenton sat on Joe's desk, as promised, grabbed one of Joe's sandwiches, unwrapped it, and bit into it. "This is a good one," he said. "Egg whites and turkey sausage? Are you on a health kick?"

Joe smiled in spite of himself. His dad was deceptively funny sometimes. "Never, Dad. As soon as I get my appetite back, I'll be sure to have as much cholesterol and saturated fats as possible. Don't worry. I'm fairly consistent that way. I had bought that for you, actually, so I'm glad you picked the right one."

"The other one for your brother?" Fenton asked.

 _Here we go._ "Nope. I'm sure you knew that, though," he answered. His dad always kept him on his toes, always changed angles so fast that Joe was always forced to think. He knew he did it to challenge him, but, sometimes, he just wished his dad would be direct.

 _What the hell? May as well be honest myself._ "Hey Dad? Tell me why you're here. Just say it, please. It's been a long night," he stated directly.

"I'm concerned about this situation with your brother," he answered.

"Yeah, you and me both," Joe replied, fiddling with his pencil.

"Then end it. Tell him you won't push the issue. Tell him you'll back off and let the courts do their thing."

Joe felt the color rush to his face. "You too? I thought you MIGHT understand." He stood up and started pacing nervously, upset. Then he faced his dad. "I can't do it. I WON'T do it. I know I'm right, and it's already done. I went to court this morning."

"I figured as much," Fenton said with a sigh.

Joe found it hard to swallow and fought back his tears, willing himself not to cry. He hated disappointing his father; his brother- but he had to stand his ground here.

"Joe," his dad began steadily, placing a hand on his arm. "Believe it or not, I DO understand you. I just spent the better part of an hour defending your actions to your brother."

Joe felt his heart skip a beat, shocked. Dare he hope? "What did he say?" he asked, anxious.

"He sees where you're coming from, but he is in total disagreement with you," he replied, bluntly.

Joe bit his lip and looked down. "What do YOU think?" he asked, timidly.

"Honestly, Joseph? I would never tell Frank this, in this situation, and undermine you, but I tend to agree with him. I think you're out of line," he said, honestly.

Joe felt the color rise back to his face, feeling defensive, angry, and upset all at once. _Misunderstood_. It was both frustrating and disappointing that his own family was turning on him like this. Before he could speak, his dad cut into his thoughts.

"I see how upset you are, son. I'll tell you what I told your brother about you. You are not acting impulsively; you're thinking deeply about the consequences of this decision; you truly believe that you're doing the right thing; you want justice to be served. So far, so good?" Fenton asked.

Joe nodded. "That's all I want, Dad," he said in a low voice. "Really. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. I'm trying to do the right thing."

"Well, what is that, Joe?" his dad asked, more gently this time. "You're walking a fine line. This decision could seriously hurt the reputation of a fine person."

"God, dad!" Joe exclaimed, frustrated and exasperated with this line of attack. "I am NOT anti- Johnny. I'm as pro- Johnny as they come. I'm just for the truth- that's all."

"You know, Joe," Fenton went on, speaking clearly and evenly, "that this Grant is making some serious accusations in his own way which you're hellbent on researching. What if it's all untrue? Then why bring John Gellers's name into it at all?"

"Dad," he tried again, "I am going to investigate the claims against Jack Johnson. That's my angle; that's it. I'm not looking to defame Johnny." He NEEDED his dad to understand.

"No," Fenton said, still patient. "Grant implicated both Johnson and John Gellers. You cannot, as a competent investigator, ignore one claim and go after another. It makes no sense. What if you find something- what then?"

"I won't!" Joe argued. "Johnny wouldn't be involved in a homosexual sex scandal. He just wouldn't!"

"Stop!" Fenton interjected. "See? This is my point. I couldn't care less if it was a heterosexual sex scandal or a homosexual one, and, despite your wording, I know neither could you. But you know who will? _The_ _press_. Johnny wasn't ashamed of being gay- why would he be? But what he was, from everything I know about him, was a very private person. He never "came out" publically. This story will "out" him, not on his own terms, and cause another terribly unnecessary slight against the gay community. Joe, don't you see? It doesn't even matter if it's true."

Joe felt his eyes burn with tears. No. He hadn't really thought about that at all.

Fenton saw he was getting through to him, and he was far more gentle. "Breathe."

"I just wanted to do the right thing," he managed, wiping back tears. "I wanted to help someone who may be mentally incompetent. I didn't want to hurt Jack Johnson or Johnny- especially not Johnny," he stammered. "All I wanted to do was prove the rumors untrue about Johnny. That's all."

Fenton placed a comforting hand on Joe's shoulder. "See? This is where your impulse over logic comes through."

"Why?" Joe asked, completely perplexed.

"You really believe that this guy is crazy- or, in your opinion, incompetent, right?" Fenton queried.

"Yes, I do," Joe replied adamantly.

"On what basis?" Fenton asked. "Because Frank thinks he's, in his own words, 'full of shit.'" Fenton made air quotes to emphasize Frank's direct quote.

"I just do- a gut instinct," Joe replied, not even trying to out-think his dad. "Frank didn't see him act the way I did."

"Yes. I told him that," Fenton replied."I did. But you made your entire case based on one meeting. Is that really fair?"

"I KNOW I'm right," Joe answered.

"Yeah, so does Frank, and one of you is wrong," Fenton stated plainly. "In any case, you claim he's crazy. Let's say you're right and Frank is wrong. So he's crazy based on-abuse?"

"Dad, I don't know why people go crazy. This kid had a long history in foster care. I have to look into that angle, and I WILL. A lot of abuse happens there. From his file, it looks as though he was out of school most of the time. He seems to be obsessive as well. So would abuse maybe play into it? Yes, probably."

Fenton sighed. "Well, at least I know you did a little more research than I initially thought," Fenton admitted. "Because what I was going to say was that if your claim of abuse leading to mental instability was based solely on his story for the ONE time that you met with him, then you're in trouble. And I'll tell you why. If you genuinely believe John Gellers was innocent, then isn't there a better than even chance that his friend, who was murdered, might be innocent, too? Judge people in part by the company they keep. So how can you simultaneously seek to prove Jack and John's innocence and yet claim that their abuse caused may have caused Grant's actions? It makes no sense. You didn't think it through. A lawyer would destroy you in court in about 2 minutes. I'm looking out for you here."

Joe swallowed hard, caught between embarrassment and indignity. "Dad," he said at last, "I know you think I'm a fool. I know you think I didn't think this through; but I did. His actions with me caused a reaction, a feeling, that something was off. And don't you think I've done research on his past, that even now I'm digging up everything I can? I saw the contradiction- and it crossed my mind many times. But my feeling isn't based on Jack and John alone- they probably _are_ both scapegoats here. But I need to know the truth."

Fenton, stunned by Joe's absolute conviction to follow his heart, quickly pulled Joe into a hug, which Joe returned, and he gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. When he pulled back, he looked into Joe's eyes. "No one can say you're not passionate," he said at last with a smile. "And we all love you for that. I apologize for not knowing totally where you were coming from. I told Frank to do what he has to. You need to do the same. You're a good detective and a good boy- _man_ ," he corrected. "I don't think you're right here, but that's not my call. At least I understand it more now."

Joe felt immeasurable relief. "Do you think it'll help if I explain more of my side to Frank?" he asked, hopefully.

Fenton's expression softened as he realized how much Joe really did need Frank in his life. "No," he replied, painfully. "I don't."

"But why?" Joe asked, hating the whine in his voice, wounded that his hope had just been snatched away from him. "It helped you a little."

"Because, son," Fenton said, squeezing his arm in comfort, "Frank could not care less about the 'facts' right now. In his mind, you betrayed him by even pushing the issue. He begged you not to; so did Callie. And when you hurt Callie, to Frank, that's unforgivable. It'd be like him going after someone who was dear to Vanessa and crushing her. I doubt you'd have patience for that."

"It's not like that-" Joe started, but Fenton cut him off.

"It most certainly IS like that," he replied, gentle but direct. "Joe, if someone found 'evidence' against your brother for something, or this case was about Frank, you'd never help the opposing side-never- even if you thought that Frank was wrong, would you?"

"Probably not," Joe admitted at last.

"And the same would hold true for Vanessa, or Callie, or me, or mom, right? You might chew us out in private, but your loyalty in public- I'm certain- would be unwavering, right?"

"Of course," Joe replied.

"Well, here's an analogy for you. Joe is to Frank like Callie is to Johnny. Facts aside, rumors aside, EVERYTHING aside, she loved him very much, was as blindly loyal to him as you and Frank are to each other. When you decided to push the issue, she felt personally betrayed, no matter your intent, because, to her, it's as if her word, her defense of this man, wasn't enough for you. Compound it with the fact that he's not here to defend himself. She loved him so much, and Frank respected him so much, that they _named their son_ after him. Think about that, Joe. Please."

Fenton went on, needing Joe to understand. "It really should have been enough, Joe. You should have left this alone simply because it was that important to Callie, and, hence, to Frank. I'm actually surprised you didn't leave it because of how close you became with John. To you, this case is about justice and looking out for those who may not be able to do it themselves. For Callie and Frank, it's about loyalty. It's that simple."

Joe hung his head. "I get it," he whispered. "I never meant to hurt anyone, especially not them. I love them."

"I know," Fenton said compassionately. "And they know, too. They're just very hurt right now. Let them work through this- give them time. Be civil, if not close, for as long as Frank needs you to be. I know it's going to be painful for you- it is for him- but just like you understand his side now, I think, he may just come around to understanding yours."

"Thanks, Dad. I… I mean," he stammered.

"I know son. I love you. It'll work out. But time takes time, right? Speaking of which, I should tell you that your brother is on the clock going back to speak with Grant again. I think he does want to understand your point of view, and this is his way of trying to do so. Maybe you should join him an try to talk again. I mean, it's jail. It'd be kind of hard for Frank to run away from you." He smiled.

Joe smiled back and gave his dad a quick hug. "I love you, too, Dad. Thanks." He left the office, grateful for his father's patience, insight, and fairness.

Joe found himself in a considerably better mood as he drove to the jail. The talk with his dad- more accurate, BY his dad- had opened his eyes to a lot of things. He would go ahead with his plan as intended. But he owed both Frank and Callie an apology, at the very least. He could swallow his pride enough for that. It would be a start, if nothing else.

He pulled into the small parking lot, turned off the engine, and got out. Looking down, he went to check for his ID to gain access to the jail.

And that is why he was caught completely off guard when he felt a powerful blow to the back of his head, and then another to his shoulder. He was swallowed by the darkness and pain almost immediately.


	10. Chapter 10

**Note:** _Thank you all so much for following and reading. Special thanks to those who left reviews on the last chapter: hbndgirl, TinDog, BMSH, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, ulstergirl, hlahabibty, max 2013, and Paulina Ann. You're all so appreciated!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 10

Frank had called ahead and was waiting patiently for his opportunity to speak with Grant. Truth be told, he didn't care at all about the case in and of itself. That madman had murdered one of John's friends. What he cared about was protecting Johnny's reputation. What he cared about more was protecting Callie's heart, no matter what the cost. And what he cared about most at this very moment was trying desperately to understand why his brother had chosen to take on this case. How could he have seen something in this guy that would have made him want to help so badly- to be so FAIR- that he would risk so much? Johnny was a good friend to him. And he should never have thought about doing something that would cause Callie pain. Unconsciously he balled his hand into a fist. _Damnit to hell, Joe. I will kill you if you hurt Callie._

While he loved Joe very much, this had hurt badly. And he'd meant it- he WOULD fight his brother every step of the way on this: get in his way, make his investigation far more difficult than it had to be, impede his progress at every step to hold off the inevitable press. He and Joe were an almost unbreakable team, but Joe had broken them. And while Joe was strong and an excellent investigator in his own right, Frank knew he could beat him if he had to. And right now, thanks to Joe, he HAD to.

But maybe, MAYBE, he could understand Joe's point of view somehow if he talked to the guy. He hoped to God so, because right now- he didn't know how he or Joe could ever be on the same team again. That killed him. He literally felt sick over it. And he didn't have time to worry about the whole damned thing, because a serial killer and whomever he was working with was after his father and his family. He hated feeling scared, but he was.

He looked quickly at his iPhone to check the time and smiled when JJ came up on his screenshot, and his heart filled with love. He'd give his life to protect his son, his wife, without question, and he took a brief minute to ask the universe to protect JJ and Callie and their new child that she carried. For all the nonsense and hurt and deep betrayal he was feeling right now, there was some good. There was _a lot_ of good.

"Frank?" a voice said, and he stood up and looked at the guard, relinquishing his keys, phone, and wallet. He'd already gone through the identification process. Soon enough, he followed the guard back to the cell. "Same as before," the guard said. "I'm right here. Remember, he has no handcuffs and the table has been brought in for the purpose of this meeting. I'm watching the whole thing."

"Thank you," Frank nodded, and entered. He came face to face with Roy Grant as he sat opposite him at the table.

"Frank Hardy," he said slowly and pleasantly. "I'm so delighted that you requested this meeting. You didn't seem amenable last time to our conversation."

Frank stared at him, trying to be emotionless. He was here for Joe only, even though Joe didn't know it. This man repulsed him in a visceral way that he couldn't explain.

Before he could say anything, Grant spoke. "I deeply apologize for my behavior at the meeting with your brother a few days ago," he began. "But your brother was kind enough to listen to my story. I wish he wouldn't have gone ahead and requested an attorney for me, though. Now there are meetings scheduled with an attorney and a head doctor. I don't need that. I just want to tell the truth." He started biting his nails, eyes shifting from side to side.

"Uh huh," Frank said, completely unmoved. "Why did you want to see me and Joe if you didn't want an attorney?" he asked.

"I told you," he said, raising his voice a bit. "I want you to prove my innocence. I don't want to be told what to say by a lawyer. I won't allow my voice to be silenced. I need you to believe me."

Frank leaned forward on his arms. "You're guilty as hell," he said, directly. " _I_ know it. _You_ know it. _Everybody_ knows it. And I don't believe for one second that this murder was not premeditated that that you did not know exactly what you were doing."

Roy smiled crazily. "I told your brother. There were circumstances… and now everyone will know. They'll know what happened. 'The play's the thing'! 'The play's the thing!"* He started calling out.

Frank studied him, unfazed. He saw what his brother had seen. But no- something was wrong. It was his eyes. It was something with his eyes. Frank decided to say very little, watch how it played out. He knew that this guy was citing _Hamlet._ At some point, Joe had indicated that, and he'd done a quick brush up on the play. Plus, he'd taken literature courses in college; Callie had a degree in English; he'd known Johnny for years and years. If this guy wanted to play crazy by citing Shakespeare, he would play that game. With an inward sigh, he couldn't help but wish this guy was a math fanatic. THAT would have been much easier for him.

"Yeah, I know," he replied evenly. "To catch the conscience of the king."*

"Ah!" Roy called out, laughing, clapping his hands excitedly. "Yes, yes, yes. You are the smart brother. You're so smart. Yes! 'That it should come to this'!"* he yelled as he started dancing around the cell.

The guard looked in, but Frank held up his hand. He wasn't nervous. He was strangely fascinated.

"Yup," Frank replied. "It's come to this. Planned this for awhile? Because your act was good enough to fool my brother. But it's not good enough to fool me." Yes- there it was. That flicker of- something- in his eyes. He waited.

"Nonononono," Roy went on. "You think you know me. You don't know me. You don't know how I think. You don't know what happened. WHAT HAPPENED!" he shouted, banging the wall.

Frank held the guard off.

"I see what happened, 'in my mind's eye',"* Frank went back at him. "You're acting crazy to be deemed mentally incompetent so you get off and go to a mental hospital instead of spending the rest of your life behind bars. But why DID you do it, huh? What's the real reason?"

Roy started laughing, then howling. The guard again tried to enter, but Frank shook his head no adamantly. "God, my head!" he started shouting. "My head! Think think think think think. 'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so',* they say. Oh, but there ARE bad things. Very bad. Very bad. No, I didn't do it. See, 'I will speak daggers… but use none.'"* He was pacing the jail cell now.

Frank stood. "Roy Grant," he said steadily, "Brevity is the soul of wit… Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?"* He sighed. "I can play Shakespeare with you all day, but I choose my time more wisely. Drop the act. You're a liar," Frank replied, meeting his eyes. YES- those eyes again. He had to think what was so disconcerting. "And I will do my damnedest to get the court to prove that you're in your right mind. And-" Frank went on, getting closer, knowing exactly what he was doing, "you're a shitty actor. You're no John Gellers."

Roy looked shocked, then venomously angry, but what he didn't look like, to Frank, was someone who was insane. He then smiled very calmly and spoke in his southern accent more strongly than when he was spouting Shakespeare. "If I were you, Mr. Hardy, I would very much familiarize myself with the play _Hamlet._ You see, the very essence of it is revenge; obsession; TRAGEDY," he whispered. "There is madness, is there not? There is SEX, where the lady doth protest too much, methinks.* It is, in a sense, brother versus brother, no?" He smiled calmly, and Frank felt his heart start to pound.

"Yes, Mr. Hardy. And there is the play within the play," Roy went on, deadly calm, voice barely above a whisper. "The Mousetrap*. But who's the mouse? I leave you with this. 'Something IS rotten in the state of Denmark."* 'It is not, nor it cannot come to good. But break my heart,- for I must hold my tongue."* He licked his lips and started laughing.

Frank motioned for guard, left the cell, grabbed his things, and ran as quickly out of the jail as he could. His mind was whirling. Something bad was going to happen. And this case was big- much bigger than it seemed. The only thing he knew for sure now was that Roy Grant was NOT insane.

And for all the heartache his brother had put him through, for as hurt and angry as he was with him, for as much as he would fight Joe step by step on what Joe had begun, and he would… he was going to warn him. Roy Grant was not insane- but he _was_ dangerous. And he would never want to see Joe get hurt.

Outside the jail, there was some sort of commotion going on. He saw a few sirens lit, though they were silent. He saw an ambulance drive away, siren blaring.

As he started to walk to his car, he felt someone grab his arm. Startled, he turned and almost knocked out the officer who had touched him, years and years of karate training kicking in instinctually.

"Frank! SHIT!" Officer Pat Merkel called out. "Look next time! I know you're a good fighter, man, but I have a gun!" He took a deep breath. "And you almost took a part of it with you."

Frank blushed and apologized. He was friendly with Pat and knew him well, though Pat was much better friends with his brother. Pat grabbed his arm again. "Come with me in the patrol car," he said seriously. "I can get you there faster."

"What? Get me where? Am I under arrest or something?" Frank tried to joke, completely confused.

"You don't know?" Pat asked, suddenly understanding why Frank was still at the station.

"Know what?" Frank asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

"It's Joe, my friend," he said to him. "He was attacked in the parking lot. I don't know what happened; we're getting the surveillance video now. But he was unconscious and bleeding from his head real bad. He's on the way to the hospital now. We have officers bringing your mother and Vanessa."

Frank felt his face drain of color. "What?" he stammered. "How?"

"I don't know, man," he said, genuinely sorry. "We're covering your whole family, and the Chief's, but I guess Joe assumed he'd be fine going from your office to a jail with officers all over."

"I…" Frank began, not even knowing what to say.

"Come on, Frank. Let's go. Joe needs you."

Numbly, not even thinking to call Callie or to ask who had been told and when all this had gone down, he followed Pat to his car, completely unaware that someone was following his moves as well.

*William Shakespeare's _Hamlet_


	11. Chapter 11

**Note:** _I really cannot express to everyone how much your reviews have meant. I want to answer all of your questions, but I find myself giving things away! I can let you know this, at least: yes, Hamlet is important, and the question of whether or not Grant is sane will ultimately be answered. There's a lot going on in this story and a lot more to unfold. Thank you so much for your support! And for the reviews since the last chapter, I am so grateful to Red Hardy (ch.1), Guest, Hero 76, BeeBee18, hbndgirl (your story is excellent- now I am curious about any similarities- LOL), hlahabibty (love your lit connection- congrats), ulstergirl, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, BMSH, and Caranath. :)_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 11

Joe tried weakly to open his eyes. His head was throbbing for some reason, and, by instinct, he went to cover his eyes from the light. He found out immediately that that was a mistake.

"Ow!" he cried out, the pain so sharp it brought tears to his eyes.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay." He heard a voice, felt a gentle touch on chest. Finally, he forced his eyes open slightly, trying to ignore the pain in his head.

He knew in a second that he was in a hospital, having been there so many times before that he was sure that insurance would have dropped him by now. It never got any easier, though. "Uhhhh," he moaned. "Wha- happen-?" he murmured.

"Shhhh," he heard the voice caution him. "Don't talk, honey. You need rest." He felt hair brushed back gently from his forehead, which, he now realized, hurt like hell, too.

 _It's now or never,_ he said silently to himself, and, with a deep breath, he forced his eyes open more, and found himself looking right at Vanessa. He could tell right way that she'd been crying, with her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, and his protective instincts kicked in at once.

"Don't cry, babe," he mumbled, trying to form an articulate thought. He went to smile at her and realized that was hard to do. His cheek felt frozen.

"Do you EVER do anything the easy way?" Vanessa gently chastised him as she squeezed his hand. "God, Joe. You went to work today and the next thing I know Chief Collig is calling me personally to tell me that Officer Conti would be taking me to the hospital." She wiped back tears with her free hand. "How does this stuff always happen to you?"

Joe closed his eyes for a second before answering. Everything hurt so bad. "I'm sorry, Van," he managed in a low voice. "I… what- I -" he was totally confused, couldn't think.

"It's okay," she told him, and he heard the tears in her voice. "Please, rest, baby. I'll tell you everything later."

He tried to touch her, but one move of his shoulder and he cried in pain. It was too much. He closed his eyes, and, mercifully, slipped back into darkness.

Vanessa covered her mouth with her hand, horrified, and silently wept.

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Frank arrived with Pat at almost exactly the time that Fenton arrived with Laura.

"What the hell happened?" Fenton asked Pat, furious and concerned.

Pat filled him in on the limited information he had already shared with Frank. "Sir, all I know that Joe was found beaten and bleeding behind the jail, which is very close to the police station. One of the patrolmen happened to be leaving from a meeting with the Warden and saw Joe on the ground. He called for an ambulance right away, and here we are. I drove Frank," he said, simply.

"Where is he? Is he okay?" Laura asked Pat. "How do we find the doctor? Where's Vanessa?" She didn't even know where to begin.

Almost as if she could hear her, Vanessa appeared in the doorway to the waiting room with Officer Conti, and immediately Laura rushed over to her. "Oh, sweetheart," she sighed. "Are you okay, honey? We're trying to see where Joe is, find out what happened."

Vanessa sniffled and wiped her eyes, holding onto Laura's hand for support. She scanned the waiting room quickly, saw Fenton behind Laura. But where was Callie? And where was- oh. There Frank was, over in the corner. He looked completely frazzled, distraught, as he made his way towards her.

She forced her eyes back to her inlaws. "I got here first," she related, wiping her eyes. "Joe's in the ICU." She took a deep breath. "Joe was at the jail for some reason."

Fenton sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. He told me he might head over there. I think he was hoping to catch up with Frank to interview Grant together."

Frank raised his brows. "I didn't know he was going to do that," he said, completely surprised.

"Yeah, well, your brother and I had a good, long talk, and I think he was eager to see you," Fenton added before shooting a look that said 'I'll tell you later.' Frank shut up.

"He's hurt," Vanessa managed in a shaky voice. "He's got a concussion and a fractured clavicle. He also had to get to get stitches for a major cut on his forehead and his cheek is really swollen-he can barely open his eye. He's in a lot of pain, and I don't even think he knows what's going on," she finished, still stunned.

"Excuse me," Pat said as his radio went off. He exited the room.

"How long will he be here?" Fenton asked. First Frank, then Callie, and now Joe. He was starting to hate this place.

Vanessa took a deep breath. "I… I don't know. At least overnight. The doctor said he could go home tomorrow night, I think, but they want to monitor his concussion. They say that his clavicle injury could take up to 12 weeks to completely heal, and that he'll be in pain for weeks."

Fenton shook his head, looked at Laura, and sighed heavily. He held Vanessa tightly. "I'm sorry, honey. Listen, why don't you go home? Laura and I will stay with Joe tonight." He was concerned, as she looked so tired; so upset.

"No… I can't," she managed. "I have to be here with him."

"Sweetheart, I don't think it's a good idea. You need to take care of yourself and that little baby, okay?" Laura encouraged her. "Please. You'll need your strength to help him tomorrow. And we will all help you."

Frank hadn't uttered a word, but he saw the look in Vanessa's eyes that he'd seen in Callie's. She was scared, and she probably didn't want to be alone.

"Stay with us tonight," he spoke up quietly. "Callie will be glad for the company, and I'll need some time to think some things through."

She looked at him, stunned, and he knew what she was thinking. "Van, not now," he went on, gently. "What happened between Joe and I has nothing to do with you. You're family. We love you. Stay with us."

Before she could answer, Pat walked back into the room. "Frank? Mr. Hardy? A word?" He beckoned them over.

"I'm going to go with Vanessa to see Joe now, "Laura said quietly. "Come back when you're ready."

"What's up, Pat?" Frank asked, frustrated and upset.

"Surveillance video from the parking lot," he answered. "And only because it's the two of you, I have a confidential copy in an encoded file on my phone. Watch. Let me warn you- it's graphic, okay?" He hit "PLAY."

The scene unfolded like a nightmare in slow motion. A man dressed in black rushed Joe from behind, savagely hitting him over and over with a crowbar. When it was done, the man turned and looked directly into the camera, as though he knew he was being watched. The face was unfamiliar, but he wasn't hiding. And he smiled and held up three fingers.

Fenton scrutinized the film while Frank excused himself, heading to the bathroom. He felt like he was going to throw up as he broke into a cold sweat. He never wanted to see Joe hurt like that, attacked by a coward against whom he had no chance, since it was an ambush. He splashed water on his face and fought back the sickening images. The worst part was that he knew he would have to watch it again and again, trying to figure out what the hell Cotnig and this guy and maybe others were doing to his family. After a few minutes he collected himself enough to send a quick text to Callie to let her know what was going on and that maybe Vanessa would be coming back with them.

On the way out, he stopped outside of the ICU, looking in to see his brother. He looked awful and Frank sucked in his breath. Why was this happening? What was the pattern? He didn't get it. He'd put aside the Grant case for now, if he could. But Joe had already gone so far as to cause at least some seemingly irreparable damage, and Frank didn't know if his heart could ever heal. Still, he would work with his dad and brother, putting everything aside, on the Cotnig case. There was no other choice.

He just couldn't shake the awful feeling that the worst was yet to come.

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Frank arrived home an hour later. Pat had driven him back to the jail so he could get his own car. Vanessa had agreed to come over, but the situation was tense at best. She would be driven by Officer Conti within the hour, having stopped at home first to pick some things up.

Callie opened the door and he could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen as he stepped inside.

"How's Joe?" she asked, concerned. They were the first words spoken between them in almost a day, with them having opted for other means of communication earlier.

"Hi, honey," he said with a small smile. He took her into his arms and held her close for a moment, reluctant to let go. "He's not good," Frank added simply, and she didn't press him. She knew he'd tell her when he could manage to. "Where's JJ?" he asked, looking over her shoulder.

"I'm horrified to say he's sleeping," she yawned into his shoulder. "I need to wake him up in a few minutes, babe, because we both need some sleep tonight." She nestled closer in his arms and closed her eyes.

He smiled softly into her hair. "Come on. I'll tell you the whole thing." He walked to the couch, holding her hand, pulled her onto his lap, and filled her in on his day- everything, from the conversation with his father, to his own conversation with Grant at the jail, to Joe's savage beating. He watched her expression change many times, and he wished he could spare her the details. He'd learned, though, that knowledge was power, and it was far more dangerous sometimes to withhold information than to give it, no matter how painful it might be. He would regret until the day he died that he hadn't told Callie and Johnny about the case he was working on that had turned out to be about Cotnig, Joe's theory that it had somehow related to Johnny's show. That knowledge may have saved Johnny's life or helped Callie or Vanessa figure out everything much sooner. He couldn't go back, but he had vowed to change since then, and he was keeping his promise.

"God," she said, voice low. "That's horrible. Joe _will_ be okay, won't he?"

Frank kissed her cheek and pulled her closer to him. "Yeah, thank God. He will need help, though. I thought that maybe we could, you know, offer for him to spend a week or so with us until he gets back on his feet." Not wanting to overstep his bounds, he added, "but only if you're okay with it, baby. I completely understand if you're not."

Callie sighed and sat up a bit straighter. She looked into Frank's eyes. "Honey, of COURSE he can stay here," she said at last. She touched his cheek tenderly. "But you need to know that what he did- the choice he made- that really broke me, you know?" she asked, trying to be steady for him. "He has such strong convictions, but they're misplaced. Joe is my brother- in-law, and he's been my very close friend for a long time," she went on, voice strained. "I do love him, but he crossed a line with me. Because I loved Johnny too, and I will not stand by Joe in what he's done. I hope you understand. Only you COULD understand." She dropped her hand and looked down, as she felt him tighten his arms around her and gently kiss her forehead.

"Cal," she heard him say after a few minutes, "I agree with you 100%, and I need you to know that. I will work with Joe as we always have worked together on the Cotnig case, because things are getting pretty scary right now," he went on, voice shaking slightly as he again thought of JJ and Callie. He was becoming obsessed with their safety, even though, rationally, he knew that Vanessa, his mom, Sam Radley, or any other one of his father's close friends or family members would logically come first- be in more danger. So, too, would Ezra Collig's family. The thought was terrifying enough. Plus, Callie had already been targeted, after all. But he couldn't shake the feeling… it literally kept him up for hours at night in the rare instance that he could even get any sleep.

He tilted her head to look at him. "But that is IT with Joe. This is going to take a long time to heal. And you know I'm a man of my word. For every move Joe makes, I _will_ counter it. He really believes this guy is insane, and I really believe that he's not. I swear to you that I will testify against my own brother if that's what this comes down to. I will protect Johnny's name- I promise, as best I can. I _hate_ this, Cal," he admitted, fighting the queasiness in his stomach, holding her tighter. "I've never been against Joe. I kind of feel like my world is upside down."

"I know," she replied at last. "Me, too."

In the distance, JJ started crying and Callie sighed. "Well," she said with a small smile, "here we go. Dinner is pretty much ready. We can wait until Vanessa gets here. I've made up the guest room with new linens for her and I'll ask Officer Bixby to take me food shopping tomorrow so we can be prepped for Vanessa and Joe's stay. I think it'll be good for you guys to spend time together working on a case- just not THAT one," she emphasized. "I enjoyed the fifteen minutes that we had together," she added, kissing his nose and heading for JJ.

He stood behind her and slipped his arm around her shoulders as they went to get the baby together. As they were walking, he whispered to her, "I am sure we can find a way to enjoy a lot more than 15 minutes tonight."

Callie blushed and turned to him as they reached the nursery, eyes sparkling.

"Dada! Dada!" JJ cried, jumping up and down in his crib. Frank felt his face light up and he picked up JJ, kissing him and cradling him close. "Hey, J-" he said softly. "Daddy's here."

"Dada!" JJ kept calling calling, happy as a lark. He put both hands on Frank's cheeks and attempted to mimic kisses on Frank's chin.

"That's so cute- I can't even take it!" Callie exclaimed, falling in love again with her family.

Frank smiled, kissing JJ again. He nuzzled his neck and JJ burst into his uproarious laughter. "Daddy missed you, little guy," he said to him as he carried JJ to the kitchen, suddenly eyeing Callie with a raised brow. "Whoa. Did you just turn me down? Because I don't believe I got an answer," he teased her with a wink.

Callie rolled her eyes as JJ played happily with Frank's shirt collar. "Honey, S-E-X," she spelled out, not wanting to say the word in front of JJ, "and S-L-E-E-P are right about at the same level of excitement for me tonight."

Frank's mouth fell open, shocked, but then he laughed in spite of himself as he held JJ with one arm and started to grab plates with the other. "W-O-W," he spelled back, but he was just teasing. "That would normally be pretty insulting if I didn't understand exactly what you meant and kind of agree," he added with a yawn. "But- maybe?" he asked, with an exaggerated wink.

Callie laughed, and gave him a quick pat on the butt. Before she could answer, the doorbell rang. "Ah, I'm saved by the bell," she teased. I'll get it."

The minute Vanessa entered, Callie's mood changed considerably. What a long few days it had been. Vanessa looked so upset as the officer kindly placed her bags inside and Vanessa came in slowly.

Wordlessly, Callie reached up and hugged her tightly. She closed the door behind her.

She led Vanessa to the couch and held her hand. "You don't need to say a word, Van," she said quietly. "And this doesn't need to be awkward. You are my best girlfriend and sister. Frank and I love you very much… and we are so, so sorry for what Joe went through."

Vanessa took a shaky breath, unsure of what to say, and Callie sensed that immediately. She took her other hand. "We want you AND Joe to stay with us for at least a week. You'll need the help- and I will need the company," she added, trying to make Vanessa feel welcome.

Vanessa looked stunned. "But-"

"No 'buts'," Callie interjected. "Joe needs to heal. We'll feed you and be happy to have you here. Frank and Joe can work together on, you know, this case. You can help me with my son- he's a handful!" She smiled.

"Oh, Cal," Vanessa whispered, overwhelmed with the day's events. She looked at Callie, eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry about what the other case has done to all of us. I really am."

Callie could barely nod. "Me, too."

"But I have to support Joe. You need to understand. I-"

"Not tonight, Van," Callie said, her heart still aching at the thought of what was happening. "I understand. He's your husband. He has his reasons. We have ours. I will be sick if I think about it tonight, okay?" She fought her own tears, and her eyes went automatically to one of her favorite pictures from her wedding, sitting on the mantle- Joe and Johnny, red in their faces, laughing so hard they were practically crying, and Frank in the center with his arms around them both, suppressing his own smile, yet with mischief in his eyes, about some inside joke that they'd just shared. It was both a terrible picture and an incredible one as it captured the real feel, the true joy of their union. She missed seeing all three of her boys together, so happy, and her throat constricted a bit knowing it could never happen again. She lingered on Johnny's face just a moment more and closed her eyes. Her gorgeous, wonderful, brave best friend, gone forever.

"I get it," Vanessa said. She looked back at the picture. "I need Joe to be okay like that again," she said, in a slightly haunted voice.

"He will be. He's Joe Hardy," Callie said simply, forcing herself to stay calm and in the present. But she was right, and it was exactly what Vanessa needed to hear.

The rest of the evening passed peacefully enough, and any awkwardness quickly diminished. Vanessa called Laura several times to check on Joe, who was waking up from his fog and who was very happy that she had decided to leave and rest. Vanessa cheered up considerably when she played with JJ for several hours.

They retired to their rooms close to 11:00, as everyone was exhausted and JJ mercifully fell asleep.

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The next morning, Frank got up a little earlier than normal, deciding to get breakfast ready for the girls before he would head to the hospital to pick up Joe. Knowing full well his parents would be back at his house for at least a few hours too, he wrote a quick note for Callie to order pizzas- that would make Joe happy, at least.

He brewed the coffee and stretched, realizing he was in a much better mood today, probably because he'd gotten a good night's sleep finally. Even if it _had_ started somewhat later than anticipated, it was _well_ worth the delay. He smiled at that thought, impressed by his own powers of persuasion, as he set out the cups and went to get the paper from the front door.

As soon as he opened the door, the smile fell from his face. There was another message, clearly from Cotnig, but it hadn't gone to his father. It had come to him. This one was on orange paper. It read " **The time and the pattern for me have been fun/ Plays and works converge; detectives will doubt."**

And then he felt his heart stop as he realized the message wasn't attached to the door as the others were. It was taped to a box of the exact kind of baby formula that JJ used.

"No," he whispered, barely able to catch his breath.

The nightmare had just become as real as it could get.


	12. Chapter 12

**Note** : _Again, I give many thanks to those of you reading and following the story. As an author, it's hard to say "trust me," because -well, why should you?! However, I can tell you all to TRUST ME that your very valid observations about Frank and Joe's relationship will be explored in depth. I wanted to portray how they are both really pretty valid in what they believe and WHY they believe as they do, and they're both trying-really- to understand each other's point of view, because they love each other. And it will get messier- but you will understand how this happened in about seven chapters or so. It's very complex, but aren't real life disagreements just like that, too? :) Thanks to the following people for your great feedback since the last chapter, which truly means so much to me: Guest, BeeBee18, Hero 76, EvergreenDreamweaver, max 2013, Paulina Ann, ulstergirl, Tin Dog, Caranath, Erin Jordan, Laurie Q, and hbndgirl._

 _Warning : Mild cursing_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 12

Biff Hooper arrived at the entrance to Joe's hospital room and knocked on the door. He was picking Joe up and driving him back to Frank and Callie's house, though that had not been the original plan. Frank had called him, very upset, which was unusual for him. He had told him that there had been an update in the case which prevented him from being comfortable leaving the house, and he'd asked him to do him this favor, since Fenton and Laura had headed back to their house to get some things before they would also return to Frank and Callie's house later. He'd readily agreed.

"Yo!" he called, knocking at the door again. "Your chauffeur has arrived and his time is valuable. I hope you're decent in there because I'm coming in!" he called out.

Before he could knock again, Joe appeared at the door, squinting. "Biff, man, I have a concussion. You think you could tone it down a little- maybe sound like your normal elephant self instead of an entire herd of elephants?" He moaned a little as he spoke.

"Jesus, you look like hell," he couldn't help but say. Joe's face was swollen on one side, he had a bandage covering what had to be stitches, and he was awkwardly moving with his left arm in a sling.

"At least I have an excuse for how I look," Joe retorted, grimacing.

Biff grinned, glad that Joe was still pretty much his old self despite what had happened. He'd actually been pretty worried - and angry- when he'd heard about the attack. He saw no reason to let Joe know that, though. "Do you ever _not_ get your ass kicked in a fight?" he asked.

Joe sighed, trying to ignore the pain that came with every movement. "Biff, shut up. Seriously. I'm not in the mood."

Biff looked at Joe and saw that he was really in pain. "Okay. Sorry. Did you sign the release papers?"

Joe nodded weakly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concerned. Joe was many things, but he wasn't a complainer. He handed Joe sunglasses, knowing how sensitive to light he would be, and Joe nodded gratefully.

"About as good as I look," Joe answered, trying to grin and only half-succeeding.

"You do have an unusually thick head, bro. That at least must have helped you," Biff answered, unable to stop himself as he started walking with Joe, guiding him carefully down the hallway, slinging an overnight bag that Joe's parents had brought for him over his shoulder so that Joe wouldn't have to carry it.

"You have an unusually big mouth," Joe answered. As ridiculous as Biff was being right now, he almost welcomed the distraction. Biff was loud and obnoxious, but he was funny as hell and, more important, he was a steadfast, loyal friend. And he really needed that now, though he wasn't going to admit it.

As they made their way to Biff's car, Joe kept taking ragged breaths and fighting the waves of pain. Biff opened the door. "What a gentleman," Joe grumbled and Biff laughed as he held Joe's arm and helped him in. Joe squeezed his arm for a minute as the movement of the clavicle, by far the most painful of his injuries, caused a pain so sharp it brought tears to his eyes, and he was grateful for the sunglasses as he blinked the tears back.

Biff felt terrible and covered Joe's hand with his own. Joe took the opportunity to distract Biff so he wouldn't see the tears.

"You trying to hold my hand, man?" he joked weakly.

Biff snorted and released his hand. "You're not my type," he answered as he gently closed the door and went around to the driver's side.

"Why, cause I'm a guy?" Joe asked, leaning his head back and just beginning to feel steadier.

"Not at all. Cause you're a jackass," Biff replied, and Joe started laughing, wincing in pain, but so relieved to be starting to feel just a little bit more normal again.

Biff backed out and began to drive, smiling. "So how do you feel about staying with Frank after everything that's gone down?" he asked, directly. Joe didn't share a lot of personal information with people, but he and Joe were pretty close, and Joe had ultimately confided in him what had happened. He'd made it a point to just listen, knowing that Joe needed that-to talk without being judged.

Joe sighed before answering. "I don't know. It's weird. I hate that it's like this, you know?"

"Yeah," Biff replied, "But it was nice of them to have you over. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Joe hesitated before answering. "I don't know. Maybe Frank just wants to work on the Cotnig case, which is fine by me," he said slowly. "Did he even say why he didn't pick me up?"

Biff shook his head, keeping his eyes on the road. "No, man. But he sounded upset. To be honest, that upset me a little. Because we both know if Frank shows that he's upset- then there's probably a reason to be upset."

Joe gave a small smile. "Eloquent," he teased.

"Anyway," Biff went on, ignoring him, "no, Joe. Honestly, bro. Frank's not a phony. If he didn't want you around, he wouldn't have asked."

"You think so?" Joe asked, hopeful.

"I do," Biff replied sincerely.

"Do you think I'm wrong?" Joe asked, regretting the question as soon as it left his lips. He realized how vulnerable it made him sound, and he could just imagine Biff's mockery, which he really wasn't in the mood for. At the same time, he just wanted someone to have his back. He had Vanessa, and he loved her more than words could say, but a small part of him wondered if she was supporting him because of marital loyalty only, though, when he'd asked her that, she'd vehemently denied it. "Never mind. Forget it."

Biff was quiet for a few minutes. "Want some ice cream?" he asked, and Joe just stared at him.

"No?!" Joe replied, incredulous, raising his brow.

"I'm getting some. I'll get you the usual," he answered, ignoring Joe. He pulled into the Dairy Queen drive through and ordered two of their Blizzards, handing Joe his favorite kind, peanut butter chocolate swirl. Joe took it with his good hand. "I owed you dessert," Biff replied with a small smile, and Joe relaxed a bit.

"Biff?" he asked after a few more minutes. "Can you do me a favor? Can you stop at the station? I have files ordered that I need to review."

Biff shot Joe a sidelong glance. "It's for the Grant case, right?" he asked directly.

"Yeah," Joe replied. " I need to get started on that. Time is of the essence on that one."

Biff shook his head reproachfully as he turned around and headed to the station without acknowledging Joe's request. After a few minutes, they reached the station. "Who's got the file? Collig?" Biff asked.

"Yeah," Joe replied, trying to figure out a way to undo his seatbelt.

"I'll get it. Stay here." Biff bounded out of his truck, and, not ten minutes later, re-emerged, holding several files. As he got in, he tossed the files on Joe's lap. "Collig said this is all he could get for you- further investigation may be necessary. He said that Grant's lawyer has copies of all this already, and would like to meet with you as soon as possible."

Joe felt his head pound. He hadn't expected things to move THIS quickly. He was struck again by the magnitude of what he had set in motion. "Thanks," he said quietly.

When they were about five minutes from Frank's house, Biff said suddenly, "Can I offer you advice? For real- I'm actually being serious."

Joe was surprised. "Yeah, of course."

"Hide those files from Frank and Callie, bro," he said steadily. "They invited you into their home. They're on edge, too, like I told you. And your brother, who, I must admit, is one of the most patient people I've ever met, is really pissed at and hurt by you now. Don't disrespect them by bringing something like this into their home- or into their sight. They offered you an olive branch, kind of, or whatever the hell it's called. Don't make it worse."

Joe nodded. "Thanks, yeah. I wasn't going to advertise it, but I appreciate the reminder."

Biff nodded as well. "I mean, you're stupid enough as it is without a big -ass concussion, so I figured I'd help you out there."

Joe chuckled. " _I'm_ stupid, but you use the phrase 'big ass concussion.'"

Biff parked in front of Frank and Callie's house and helped Joe out. He could see Vanessa peeking through the window, looking for him. "The little woman will be happy to see you," he said, giving Joe a quick pat on the back. "Go ahead. I'll grab your bag and throw the files in there."

As they were about to start up the pathway to the front door, Biff said quietly, looking straight ahead, "For what it's worth, man- no. I don't think you're wrong. You always try to do right by people, and I know this isn't about hurting Johnny. I get it. You just wanted to make sure that an underdog was protected. That's admirable."

Joe looked at his friend, shocked, and felt his eyes burn with tears again. "Thanks," he choked out after a minute. He cleared his throat. "That means a lot, actually."

Biff cut the emotional moment. "I'm not going to kiss you now," he said with a small grin.

Joe snorted. "Later?"

I'm Biff shrugged. "Maybe. It depends how desperate or how drunk I am." He smiled at Joe. "Jerk."

"Idiot," Joe replied.

They knocked on the door.

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Once inside, Biff dropped off Joe's bag and waved hello and goodbye at the same time. Before Joe could even think, he felt himself being surrounded by his parents and Vanessa, who immediately started fussing over him. What he didn't see was Frank or Frank's family.

After close to an hour, he was completely exhausted. "Honey?" he heard Vanessa say, and he forced himself to pay attention. "You need to rest."

"Vanessa's right," Laura cut in, gently. "Callie set up your bedroom. I'll get you some more pain medication and help Vanessa get you settled. Dad and I will be staying until dinner, when you two and Frank can sit down and really discuss what you need to, while I spend some time with my lovely daughters and grandson."

Joe nodded, then, remembering the files, he asked, "Mama, can you bring up that bag for me?" Noting her concern, he added, "And talk to the boss about sick leave for me, since I still have a mortgage to pay." He gave her a quick wink.

Laura smiled fondly. "I'll see what I can do. He's tough, though."

"Insensitive beast," Joe agreed, and couldn't help but laugh when he saw his dad staring at him, arms crossed.

"This beast can make you _permanently_ disabled, Joseph, so I suggest you go up now peacefully before I will be forced to make an alternate arrangement." As usual, Joe couldn't tell just how much his father was kidding.

After his mom and Vanessa helped him to get settled in, he stretched and realized, as soon as he'd laid down, that he had forgotten to take his pain medication. His head was throbbing and his collarbone injury was far more painful than he would have expected, and he was pretty damned familiar with injuries. Sighing inwardly, he got up, grabbed the pills, and took a drink. As he started to return to his bed, he paused when he heard soft voices.

Concerned, he walked quietly to his door and opened it bit. It just so happened that Frank and Callie's bedroom was diagonal to this particular room, and that their door was open. He glanced in, curious, overhearing just a small bit of their conversation. His intent hadn't been to eavesdrop.

 _Callie was sitting on Frank's lap, arm around his shoulder. He had his arms around her waist. "Frank, what are we going to do?" she asked quietly. "I'm scared."_

" _I know, sweetheart. Please trust me. I'll get to the bottom of it. But yes- you absolutely need extra protection now, and so does JJ."_

Joe heard Frank's voice break, saw the way he and Callie were holding each other, and he was concerned.

" _But HOW can you get answers, babe? You've got nothing so far. And…" she looked down._

" _What, Cal?" he asked, quietly. "Talk to me."_

" _You don't have Joe. You NEED Joe here. You can't do this alone."_

" _I can if I have to," Frank answered forcefully and defiantly, but softened his tone immediately when he looked at Callie's shocked expression, saw her flinch just the slightest bit._

Joe heard the anger, but more important, the fear in Frank's voice. But he was shocked by the even more intense fear in Callie's.

" _Please, babe," she begged. "Put the other case aside now. For JJ. That's all I ask. I- I can't..."_

He heard the quiver in her voice, and his heart started pounding. JJ? What was wrong with JJ?

" _I will do anything for my son," he said at last, voice thick with emotion. "You're safe. You're safe," he repeated, as he looked into her eyes, and she nodded slowly, her body posture indicating that she relaxed the tiniest bit. "Don't worry, honey. I'll talk to him tonight. It may never be the same with us again- I don't know- but I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and JJ. You're the most important thing right now. Joe and I will be okay. Please don't worry, baby." He tilted her head to his, kissing her softly._

Joe shut the door silently and took a deep breath. He kept hearing "it may never be the same again", kept seeing the fear in Frank and Callie's eyes, kept envisioning the effort that it was taking Frank to even talk to him. It sounded like Frank was hoping it might work out with him, but he was scared to hope, afraid to be let down. Something was way off with his brother, and he was more concerned than even resentful or angry at the moment. He didn't understand what was happening with JJ, or why, when Callie looked so panicked, Frank had changed his tone quickly and drastically, talking about safety. Nothing made sense.

Even though he knew that he would be working with Frank tonight and that his dad would be there, thankfully not only as a great detective but also, he was sure, as a great dad and friend, his heart still ached. All doubts of his decision swirled in his mind.

Yes, he'd help with the Cotnig case. Of course he would. This madness had to stop. But when he looked at the pain that he'd inadvertently, really innocently caused his brother and Callie, he was starting to wonder if the price of justice was really too high after all.


	13. Chapter 13

**Note:** _Again, thank you to all those reading and following the story. A special thanks to those of you who took the time to leave reviews on the last chapter, which, as always, meant a lot to me: TinDog, ulstergirl, hlahabibty, Hero 76, Erin Jordan, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, max 2013, and BMSH. You are all very much appreciated!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 13

A few hours later, Vanessa turned to Callie, who was relaxing on a couch in the family room. Laura was sitting with JJ, who was now in a fresh diaper and an adorable pair of footed pajamas with bears on his little feet. She was holding JJ and reading _Goodnight Moon_ to him, and his eyes were half closed as he cuddled close.

"Good job, grandma," Callie said quietly to her with a smile. "Would you like me to take him upstairs now so you can rest?"

"Absolutely not," Laura replied, lifting JJ's hand to her lips and kissing it. "I plan to hold my little boy as long as I can before grandpa and I hit the road."

It was 8:00, and Joe had awoken about 45 minutes earlier. Fenton, Frank, and Joe were going to discuss the case for an hour or two over leftover pizza, and then Fenton and Laura would be heading back to their home for the evening, escorted by the police.

"You are more than welcome to stay overnight- as long as you'd like," Callie suggested. "Really."

Laura looked at Callie fondly. "Sweetheart, you're tired. So are you, Vanessa," she went on, turning to her as well. "Thank you for the offer, but you both have had a long day and you need rest. You're both carrying my other grand babies, and I will not accept anything less than the very best care for them. My sons are good boys, but they can be a lot to handle. And I know this is a stressful time for everyone," she added delicately.

Vanessa inadvertently let out a sigh. "Sorry," she said, timidly. "I just…" she looked into the other room, barely visible, and saw Frank in the distance. "I just hope this conversation turns out well," she managed. She still was worried sick about Joe, who, as always, was pushing himself too hard. And as much as Callie and Frank had tried, there was undeniable tension that remained unresolved.

Laura knew she had to speak up. "Callie? Vanessa?" she asked gently, rocking JJ slightly. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to say something." She watched as her daughters -in- law simultaneously looked her way.

She smiled softly. "Girls, I know this is hard," she said, straightforwardly. "But let's not lose sight of the fact that we need each other right now. A very dangerous man is on the loose, and you need to be on heightened alert."

Callie looked down quietly, and Vanessa turned slightly away.

Laura continued. "Callie," she said directly to her, "you are so kind to invite Vanessa and Joe here, given the circumstances." She went on, despite Vanessa's blush and Callie's stoicism. "Frank still doesn't feel 100%; you are still recovering, honey. You can't hide the bruises on your pretty face." Callie finally met her eyes and gave her a small smile. "Honey, I can't tell you to let it go about Joe's decision. I understand your position, but I understand Joe's as well."

"Laura, please," Callie said softly, trying to be understanding, but hurting. "I really can't talk about this tonight." She stood up slowly, her back still aching, cramping more than usual.

Laura did not back down. "I'm not asking you to deal with it tonight. I _am_ asking you to remember that Joe loves you. So does Vanessa. This will pass, honey. Thank you for trying to deal with it and help."

Callie sucked in her breath, emotional. She was never one to hold her tongue, though she was trying to be respectful of everyone. Still, they didn't understand. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Laura, thank you for trying to bring this to light," she said shakily. Both Laura and Vanessa looked at her, surprised, she saw, by how upset she was getting, but she couldn't help it. She went on. "You're right," she said after a minute. "But this will not just 'pass.'"

She then turned to Vanessa when she spoke. "Van, I love you," she said, simply. "So much. You know that." She hated how shaky her voice was. She reached down for Vanessa and held her hand for a minute, met her eyes. "Nothing will ever change that. And you are always welcome here- _always_." She released Vanessa's hand slowly, as Vanessa wiped back tears.

"And Laura," Callie said to her, "please know I wish to God this wasn't happening." She took in a shaky breath. "You and Fenton are the world's greatest in-laws, and I know this divide between your sons is hurting you, and I am so sorry for that. And, believe it or not, I love Joe a lot, too. That's why this is so, so hard for me."

She looked down, her emotions almost choking her. "But you see," she forced herself to go on, "I also loved Johnny very much. I know you both understand that, but you don't; not really. I… I know that you knew that I had a friend who meant a lot, but he… " Callie felt a few tears slip loose, but forgave herself. She was allowed to mourn. "He was literally the most important person in my life for a long time. The only person who understands that is Frank, even though I know that probably makes no sense to you…"

She felt herself getting tense, felt her head hurting.

"Callie," she heard Laura cut in, but Callie held up her hand.

"Please. Let me finish." She took a deep breath. "I understand that Joe doesn't mean any harm. I understand that more than Frank does, believe me. But I also know that Joe should have backed down. He should have done what I begged him to do and let this go. Joe doesn't understand fully what Johnny meant to me- that's what I have to tell myself; that's the only way I can look Joe in the eyes and maybe, just maybe, find some small way to forgive him. But Joe _does_ know me. And he should have had enough love and respect for me to accept what I asked- without question. It is taking every ounce of self-control I have right now to accept Joe for who he is, because, at this very moment, no one knows these… heinous… accusations against my best friend. But Laura-Vanessa-" Callie raised a shaking hand to her mouth, "I'm scared to death that Joe has gone so far and that these rumors WILL make the press. That kills me. And if they do, I will still love Joe, but we will NEVER be a complete family again. You may not "get" why protecting my Johnny's reputation is so vitally important to me- arguably, you'll think, more than my extended family is- and that's okay. I get it; that's all that matters. I don't want this to happen- but I'm scared that the ball is in motion and there's no turning back."

She couldn't continue, images of Johnny in her mind. "Laura, please bring JJ to the nursery when you're ready to go." She looked at her only sister and second mother, saw the tears in their eyes. "I have the strongest conviction that Johnny needs to be protected, and I WILL do that. NO MATTER WHAT. I'm so sorry," she managed. "But I love you both so much, and I hope you'll _accept_ , if not totally _understand_ , my point of view one day. Good night." She turned on her heel and left the room slowly.

"Oh, Laura," Vanessa cried softly. "What are we going to do?"

Laura kissed JJ softly and looked at her precious grandson, the epitome of innocence and love. "I don't know, honey," she managed. "But this is even worse than I thought."

"Do you… do you think that she'll come around? That maybe Frank will?" she asked, clinging to hope.

"I pray so," Laura said at last. "Maybe Joe was wrong to push the issue. Maybe he should have honored her request. But he was trying so hard to follow his moral compass and his instinct, and he was not trying to hurt John." Laura sighed heavily. "I understand Callie's need to protect her dead friend, but not at the cost of a living someone who might not be competent… even if he is a bad person. EVEN IF he is a killer, and he may be, he does have the right to have someone advocate for him if he can't do it himself, and Joe just had to ensure that. All this I believe is true, yet I also know that in the process reputations may get damaged a bit, and that John Gellers was a good man."

"He was a GREAT man," Vanessa interjected.

"A great man, then," Laura acquiesced. "But I'll be honest. I never fully understood Callie and John's relationship, and, more, I never understood how Frank wasn't bothered by it. They were remarkably close, and, while it's not unheard of for people of the opposite sex to have very close friendships, I'll admit- I've never seen such steadfast loyalty and such overt affection with another person, ESPECIALLY when one of those people is in a committed relationship with someone else. I… I suppose it always bothered me a little, to be honest, and I wonder if there was more than meets the eye there. That's all. And when I tell you that shocked didn't cover it when I saw how Frank was okay with it- I'm not kidding. Did you know that Callie and Johnny lived together in her final year of college in California? And I think they actually roomed together before that at some point. THEY LIVED TOGETHER," she repeated. "Frank mentioned it casually one day years ago and I was flabbergasted".

"He was gay," Vanessa answered, simply. "And yes- I knew that. It wasn't a secret. I didn't think anything of it." She was starting to get uncomfortable. Johnny had saved her life, practically, and Callie was her best friend. She'd never even contemplated the fact that anything was even remotely amiss with Callie and Johnny's friendship and she didn't want to think, what, if anything, was being implied. Sometimes the universe just threw you gifts, had you click with perfect strangers and form lifelong bonds. And she was shocked that Laura had been holding onto ANY of these thoughts - apparently for years- because both Laura and Callie were women of great integrity, and to have doubts about that… she didn't even know what to think. Where was this coming from?

"He may have been gay," Laura replied, "but he was a _very_ good looking man, pretty wild from all accounts I have heard, and Callie is quite beautiful. Joe has even said how women threw themselves at him all the time. And they met in the brief period of time when she and my son were separated. There was something about that intimacy that never felt right, because I didn't- I _don't-_ understand it. And worse yet, the most complex part, is that Frank is so protective of her, so non -trusting of anyone with her heart. How was he okay with it?" She saw Vanessa's shocked expression, and finished. "I'm sorry, honey. I don't mean to burden you. I'm stressed out and I've always been able to talk to you. You know I could not love Callie more than I do- she is so precious to me- a kind, fun, smart, loving person - but, for whatever reason, the two of us have just always been closer. I think Callie has always been more guarded around people, even family, than you have. She holds back just a little. So I appreciate you listening, honey. You are my daughter in so many ways."

Vanessa smiled weakly and reached over to squeeze her mother- in- law's arm and touch JJ gently. "Laura," she began. "You're my other mom. It's just that I'm shocked. I never knew you thought it was weird. Callie and Frank are completely loyal to one another; they love each other so, so much. I mean, if ever two people were meant to be, it's them. You don't think that Callie-" she had to stop, tears springing to her eyes.

"I don't think Callie anything," Laura said, interjecting. "Of course not. And Callie's past relationship with that young man, if she even had one, is absolutely none of my or anyone else's business. Maybe there was something there; maybe there wasn't- I don't think we will ever know, and I'm fine with that. As I said, though, I just don't understand it. Really- that's all. I'm sorry I mentioned it. I know how much my son adores her. Everyone knows that. And I believe in my soul that Callie is madly in love with him, still, after all of these years- more so, in fact. That's just why I really am confused as to where John fit into her life; why Frank was so trusting with him."

"He was remarkable," Vanessa said, defensive. She knew Laura wasn't being purposefully mean and she admired her honesty. But this was JOHNNY.

"Yes," Laura answered. "Honey, I know. He seemed like a lovely person, and from what you've told me about all he did for you and Callie, I will be forever in his debt. But-it's just strange that Callie would be so loyal to a man who is not Frank, and…"

"Callie is ridiculously loyal her family," Vanessa countered.

"John Gellers was not her family," Laura reminded her.

"Look, I don't know their history that well," Vanessa admitted honestly. "But I could not have been more fond of Johnny, and he gave his life for Callie- he tried to- and for me. And he always took care of her, and me, too, in later years. So I see why she is so loyal to him."

"More loyal than sticking by her brother- in- law, who is hurting so badly right now because no one understands that he just tried to do the right thing?" Laura asked, protective of Joe. She was worried how deep this rift was starting to get and in such a short amount of time. Both she and Fenton adored their boys, and it was painful to watch them fight through this. It was even affecting her relationship with her own husband. Neither would admit it to each other and would certainly not utter it out loud, but, deep down, she found herself more sympathetic to Joe; found Fenton more understanding of Frank. Things were precarious at best. Her family, which meant everything to her- was in a danger zone right now. And she couldn't shake the feeling that a crisis was imminent.

"Oh, Laura," Vanessa sighed. "I don't even know. I don't want this to be Joe versus Johnny. It was never the intent."

Holding JJ even closer, Laura finally answered. "Oh, sweetheart, it's worse than that. It's now Joe versus Frank."

Vanessa nodded slowly and looked down. They sat in silence, each lost in her own thoughts of their solid past, tense present, and uncertain future.


	14. Chapter 14

**Note:** _I mentioned that things would get messier as each person explores his or her reasoning and beliefs. Innuendo, secrecy, morality, and loyalty are coming into play as the Hardy family members, who really love each other, have to start to make decisions_. _Thank you so much to those of you who have been so kind as to leave reviews since the last chapter: Red Hardy, Hero 76, hlahabibty, hbndgirl, Paulina Ann, EvergreenDreamweaver, max2013, Erin Jordan, and Caranath. Your support means so much to me! Happy Fourth of July. :)_

Stages of Conviction

Chapter 14

Fenton made his way into the kitchen, having just helped Joe to the couch in Frank's family room. He checked the oven and decided to wait the five more minutes until the pizza was warmed up to bring it in for both of his sons. Frank and Callie somehow managed to keep a meticulously neat home despite having a baby, but he was more than willing to risk eating pizza in a room other than the kitchen if it would make Joe more comfortable.

He checked his watch briefly, dreading tonight. Despite several brief appearances by Callie and Frank, they had managed to avoid talking to Joe at all, and tonight was going to be rough. He was grateful that Joe had been sleeping the vast majority of the day so that he wouldn't be hurt by Frank's behavior. And he saw in Joe's eyes both anxiety and hope that things would just be normal. His poor son was still in so much pain, but was fighting it every step of the way. And his eldest son, who was far more stubborn than most people realized, appeared to be having an internal battle with how he should treat Joe. This, and they hadn't even seen each other yet tonight.

Before he could think about it further, the timer on the oven went off. He grabbed oven mitts, opened the oven, and withdrew the pizza. At least that would make Joe happy. As he put down the box, he saw Frank appear in the entrance.

"Oh- hey, dad," Frank said with a small smile. "I heard the timer and I figured that I'd check to see if the pizza was ready. Callie went to rest and JJ is with mom and Vanessa."

"It's ready," Fenton replied, grabbing some plates and napkins. "Want to grab some soda? And before you say anything, if anything spills, I'll clean it. It's much easier for Joe to eat inside now that he's settled."

Frank's expression remained neutral. "Dad, I have a son. I'm not always neurotic about neatness."

Despite himself, Fenton laughed. "That's the funniest thing I've heard all day. Of course you are. But you're otherwise a fairly normal kid, so I'll let it go." He gave Frank a small wink, and relaxed slightly when he saw Frank's lips turn to a slight grin despite himself. "Listen, Frank- before we see your brother, can I just say something to you?"

Fenton watched Frank stiffen immediately. "Sure," Frank replied. Fenton had to admit that Frank was a master at disguising his emotions at times, but he was his son, and he knew him well.

"Just remember. You can't have it both ways here, Frank. You invited Joe and Vanessa to stay with you for a while, which was kind and altogether indicative of the kind of person you are. But then treat Joe like who he is- your brother and best friend. He's been badly hurt, and he's in pain. You can't say you want him here and then treat him as if you don't. Okay?"

Frank's eyes darkened. "Joe is welcome, dad. If he wasn't, I wouldn't have invited him over. I need his help on the Cotnig case, and, as long as we steer clear of the Grant one for the time being, it'll be fine."

Fenton sighed inwardly before speaking. "It'll have to be, I suppose," he said at last. "Come on." He grabbed the food and turned toward the other room.

Frank watched him go and took a deep breath. Then, slowly, he followed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inside, Frank watched as Fenton handed Joe a plate with food and saw his brother look at him with a closed, hesitant smile. He felt his chest constrict a bit and made a conscious choice to put the Grant case aside for now. Joe looked awful, and Frank couldn't stand to see him in pain.

Fenton sat back and decided to watch this play out for a few minutes.

Frank sat next to Joe on the sofa and placed a hand gently on his back. "How are you feeling?" he asked, tentatively.

Joe let out a small breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Frank was trying; he saw that. "Biff says I have an extra hard head which protected me."

Frank chuckled. "Yeah, well, I could have told you that," he responded. He rubbed Joe's back gently. "I'm glad you rested. How's the collarbone?"

Joe sighed. "That's the real pain in the ass," he said, grimacing as he moved.

"Or shoulder, as it were," Frank teased. Then, noting the look of pain on Joe's face, he looked down, picturing the awful video that Pat had shown him. He tried to fight the anger he felt. Joe was his little brother no matter how strained things were right now, and no one hurt his kid brother.

"Frank?" Joe asked, noting his brother's change of demeanor. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Have some pizza. And don't spill it," he added.

Joe smiled. "Now you're getting back to normal," he replied, as he bit into a slice.

They sat with their father making small talk as they ate, mainly led by Fenton bringing up the upcoming holiday. Neither spoke about what Thanksgiving would mean if they remained on these terms, but the ground, for now, was neutral. As Joe finished his pizza, Frank had excused himself for a few minutes and returned with a sleeping JJ.

"Sorry," he said to them when he came back. "I heard him starting to wake up and I thought I'd give mom and Vanessa a break. When we're done eating, I think we need to go over several things," he said. He sat back on the couch, with JJ nestled into his arm, sound asleep.

Joe felt himself get teary eyed which he quickly blinked back. If it were not for his injury, he would have been holding JJ himself, probably still throwing him in the air and causing Frank and Callie complete anxiety while he bonded with his nephew. He couldn't take his eyes away from him, that perfect little boy. He was reminded at once that he was going to be a dad, too, a fact so surreal he could still barely process it, and that his brother, whom he loved so much, was growing up, too. They now had their own families, their own lives separate from each other. He silently prayed that growing up would not mean growing apart.

Frank saw him looking at him. "Joe?" he asked softly. "Do you want to hold him?"

Joe sucked in his breath, heard Biff's words in his head about Frank offering him an olive branch. "Very much," he answered, more seriously than he had expected to.

Frank smiled warmly at him, and, gently, stood up with the baby and helped to maneuver him into the crook of Joe's good arm. JJ stirred for a minute, started to cry, then stopped just as suddenly, holding onto Joe's finger. Joe closed his eyes for a brief second, completely happy. When he opened them again, he saw his dad smiling; saw a look of affection on Frank's face.

"What?" he asked with a wry grin. "The kid knows who's the cool one to cuddle with. What can I say? He's a wise child."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Anyway," he started, suddenly serious, "there's something I need to discuss with you. It's actually about JJ."

Joe didn't miss the catch in his voice and he instinctively rubbed JJ's finger.

"This morning, I received two more poetry lines from Cotnig. They had to be. And it came to _me_ , dad- not to you, which we assumed. It fits the "f" pattern still, but he seems to have completely avoided you, and I'm not sure why. I don't know how the notes are getting here at night with the police."

Joe nodded. "What about JJ?" he asked, gently.

Frank's expression was grim. "This time, the note wasn't on the front or back door. It was on a box of baby formula- the exact type that JJ uses- and to say that I'm concerned about that would be an understatement."

"What?" Fenton exclaimed, and Joe felt his face drain of color.

"I know," Frank said, rubbing his eyes. "We have to start working on this. The fact that I was attacked, as was Callie, and now this with JJ-I had to ask for more police protection from Collig for my family. I'm… I'm worried." He was uncharacteristically emotional.

"Of course," Fenton replied. "I'll call Ezra tonight to make sure that it's done. Are you saying that you think that you're being targeted now for some reason?"

Frank shrugged. "I really don't know, but I will not put Callie or JJ in any dangerous situation. This is my home, and I won't be driven from it. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that it can't just be Cotnig. It can't be."

"Well," Joe cut in, "we're still waiting on the partial print ID. Let's just hope it's only one more person. I don't understand this at all. We know that Cotnig's M.O. is to get to you, dad, through your family. I assume that the same would be true for Collig, but THAT hasn't happened yet, and it should be happening, though you are and always have been the primary target." He turned to Frank. "I'd be scared if that happened with JJ," he validated Frank, firmly, holding JJ closer. "And you almost died- and so did Callie. But I did, too, so I'm not sure that your theory holds up."

Frank stood and locked his hands behind his back, thinking. Then, he said quietly, "Dad, show Joe the video of what happened to him."

Fenton drew his mouth into a thin line. "That's not a good idea."

"Yeah, it is," Joe agreed. " I probably should see it. Is there a reason, Frank, in particular?"

Frank nodded slowly. "I need you to see it because I think it actually validates my point, and I'd like your opinion. But it's harsh," he met Joe's eyes, "and I almost threw up when I saw it. So if it's too much for you, I'll be happy to discuss it just with dad."

Joe shook his head, resigned. "No. Let me watch it." Frank reached for his phone and then went for JJ, but Joe said quietly, "Frank, I'm fine. I think having the little guy here will actually keep me calm."

Frank nodded and hit the play button. He watched Joe carefully, shocked when Joe didn't get upset. At the end of the video, Joe looked up. "Damned video didn't even catch my good side," he said at last.

Frank laughed quietly. "I thought all you had were good sides, right?"

Joe smiled wanly. "That's true," he replied. "Okay. I've seen it. Now talk."

Frank was impressed by his brother's bravery, and continued. "I've been thinking about this a lot," he started. "And I see a pattern- another freaking pattern that has nothing to do with the poems or who they're directed at. The thing about these patterns," Frank went on, determined, 'is that when they end, Cotnig seriously starts. At least that's what happened last time," he added.

Joe studied his brother. Frank was brilliant, he really was. He'd attended Princeton and then, when he was waiting for him to graduate college, he'd gotten a Masters degree there, in Math, for fun. FOR FUN- that was a direct quote from Frank. Joe used to tease him that he was slumming it now, working at a small, if prestigious firm, while Fenton had loved it, now that Frank did all of the family's and business taxes for free. But Frank's mind was so methodical that it left no room, at times, for variations from patterns, for things that just WERE without explanation. He was worried, then, that Frank was seeing things that might not exist, making sense of inexplicable things...in both cases. Still, he listened, attentive.

"Last time," Frank said, slowly, "Cotnig- David and Alan, Ezekiel, Tobias, Annunziata- they had planned the attacks on everyone once the pattern had been established. There were patterns everywhere: the five people who were killed to reveal the spaces for dad's and Chief Collig's initials, the first ads and case, almost 20 years earlier; the parallel to Johnny's show…" he paused, and Joe sensed the awkwardness with the mention of Johnny's name, but, to his credit, he went on, "the town names, the ages, the initials of EVERYTHING, the patterns of attacks… they were all planned out. But it's like Cotnig did all that and then waited to see if dad- if WE- could figure it out before he went after dad, Collig, Callie, John, and Vanessa. In other words, the pattern stopped until we could see that it WAS a pattern. And, when we did, that's when all hell broke loose."

"Go on," said Fenton thoughtfully, as Joe studied Frank's reasoning.

"So now,"' Frank continued, starting to pace, "I think the same thing is happening. Somehow, we have to see the pattern, predict where it will END, so we can work backwards to get the upper hand."

"That's all interesting," Joe cut in at last, "but HOW are we supposed to do that? And what does this have to do with your idea that you, Cal, and JJ are a focus for some reason?"

"I think we need to look at the poems; the days they were sent; the colors; who was on duty at each house each time. We need to look at how Cotnig would know our friends, as well as dad's and Collig's friends. We need to study."

"Okay," Joe cut in, knowing Frank was going somewhere with this.

"Tomorrow- dad, if you can come over again, since Joe will be here, I'd like us to look at the poems together, okay?"

"Of course," Fenton readily agreed.

"And as far as why I think my family is the target?" Frank stopped pacing, and took a deep breath. "Because that aspirin could have killed me- it almost did. That car accident could have-" he cleared his throat, and Joe saw how painful it was for him to utter the words, "killed Callie, or my son. That last message was sent to ME, not to dad, and it was attached to a formula box. But you? Joe, you saw the video. You could have been killed… if that was the intent. It wasn't. The intent was to hurt you and to send a message. A few more punches- you would have been dead. And the guy knew that. That's why he turned to the camera. He knew he was being watched and he held up three fingers. Also, someone must have been following me or you, and it was probably me, since the attack happened at the jail. Then again, it could have been you, since you were attacked. I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

Joe nodded. It made a certain amount of sense. "But why not dad? Why not Collig?"

"Because the pattern isn't done yet," Fenton finished, repeating Frank's earlier assertion. "But why Frank's family is the vehicle by which Cotnig is going after us- I don't know. Because," Fenton went on, aware of how terrifying his words would be, "JJ is the most vulnerable. And let us not forget that both Callie and Vanessa are pregnant, which makes them VERY high risk for Cotnig."

Joe felt his face blanch, and he looked at his brother, but he saw something right away- Frank had already reached the same conclusion. He had been prepared for their father's statement.

"Exactly," Frank said calmly. "So then I started thinking, okay- what has been the pattern thus far? And you know what it is? A,B, C again. The man is nothing if not consistent."

"Why? Just because the letters have been sent in that order? And who would be next?" Joe asked.

"Not just that," Frank answered. "The actual attacks. First- me. Allergy to aspirin- "A". Then Callie. "Broken Breaks- "B." You're the most creative, Joe. 'Concussion. Collarbone. Clavicle. Contusion - cheek. Oh, and with a crowbar.' See where I'm going with this?"

"Holy shit," Joe replied, mouth agape.

Fenton shook his head and looked at his sons. "So you're saying we have to figure out the end pattern as quickly as possible; figure out who I know that starts with a "G" for the messages; see what potential injury and to whom would start with a "D"."

"Yes," Frank replied steadily.

"And then do everything else- research the prints, the background of Cotnig again, the police, the times… and all of this is before we look at the most obvious clues, which we haven't even started with- the poems."

"Yes again," Frank replied.

"Well," Fenton sighed heavily, "that is absolutely no comfort whatsoever. I guess I'll call Sam and Ezra tomorrow and get on it. I'll see if there are any other contacts that I can call from the NYPD or the FBI. This has to end this time, boys. I will not let my family be terrorized by this madman any longer." He shook his head slowly. "All right. Mom and I will head out now. You two should get some sleep." He walked over and gave Frank and Joe quick squeezes on their shoulders, and kissed JJ on his forehead before walking out. Less than five minutes later, Vanessa came in and announced that she would be going to bed and waiting upstairs for Joe, and Laura had come in and bid them adieu.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank and Joe were alone at last.

"That's a hell of a lot to think about," Joe said quietly.

"Yeah," Frank said, shifting awkwardly. He walked over and gently took JJ from Joe's arm. "I'll put him to bed and then help you upstairs, okay?" he said, but he didn't move, as he held JJ to his chest, rubbing his head tenderly. Joe saw, again, how worried Frank was, and how very much he loved his son. It was clear by every look and every touch.

"Thanks for letting me stay here," Joe said quietly, mentioning the unmentionable.

Frank didn't speak for a minute, and, when he did, he looked very serious. "Joe," he said steadily, though his dark eyes creased in concentration… or something else Joe couldn't quite place. "I promised myself that I wouldn't have this talk tonight, but there are a few things that I have to say, so please- just listen, okay? Don't try to outthink me or out talk me, because I don't have an agenda. I'm just being honest with you."

"Okay," Joe replied, voice small. His head was throbbing and it was hard to concentrate, but he knew it was important. He could tell whatever Frank was about to say was going to be difficult for them both. He watched as Frank held JJ close, seeming to need him in his arms for comfort.

"Joe, I am so sorry that you got hurt and that I wasn't there to protect you today. I was sick for two days over what happened to you." He looked in Joe's eyes. "And I know you were coming to talk to me at the jail. Dad told me. And you can tell me what you wanted to say later, if that works for you."

"It does," Joe replied, surprised by Frank's words; touched by them. Frank sighed as he kissed JJ again almost unconsciously. He spoke at last. "Joe, you're my kid brother, and you'll always be welcome in any home that I have. And no matter what happens, you know I love you. I hope that you know that. Always."

Joe's mouth fell partially open. WHERE was this coming from? Frank was rarely so expressive. "I do. I love you, too," he answered, sincerely.

Frank took a deep breath. "But listen to me, Joe. I am _begging_ you not to go any further with the Grant case- and I never ask you for anything. I know you feel like you have to, but I cannot put Callie through this. You just don't understand what it would do to her- to us both, but especially to Callie, if you don't back off. You don't understand about Johnny; you really don't." Joe was shocked at the pain in Frank's eyes, the despair- and the intensity.

"Frank, I can't," he replied at last. "It's in motion already. I have a meeting with the lawyer tomorrow." He hated saying the words. "I know you don't understand me, either. Why I did what I had to do. And maybe you were right to a certain extent. I don't want to hurt you or Callie or Johnny. I swear to God, that's the last thing I would ever want to do." His heart was pounding.

Joe was absolutely shocked to see tears in Frank's eyes. Frank's lips trembled a bit, and Joe was too stunned to even talk. Frank's raw emotion on this case was completely out of character.

"Then you know I am going to fight you, Joe. Every step of the way." Frank's voice was low; tight; choked with emotion. "All I can do now is pray to God that you didn't just set in motion some damage to Johnny that is so irreparable that I can't fix it. Because if you did…" Frank took a shaky breath, "then things will us with never be the same."

Joe felt his face flush, tears spring to his own eyes. "That's upsetting," he finally managed, "because you are my brother and I am only trying to do what's right. And I don't understand why you don't understand that." He stood painfully, slowly, and now remained at opposing sides from Frank.

"I needed you to listen to me, Joe," Frank replied, finding his voice again. "I thought you could have respected me enough- respected Callie enough- to BACK OFF."

"This had nothing to do with respect!" Joe countered, trying not to raise his voice and wake JJ. "I was coming to apologize to you today, though, because I see that you _think_ this is about loyalty to you- and I swear to you, it's not. Maybe I should have backed down. Maybe you're right. I can see that now. But it's started, Frank. And now I have to follow through. I hope you understand that, and I never meant to hurt you."

Frank had turned from him as he spoke. Finally, he turned back, and, when he did, his expression shocked Joe. It was serious, hurt, and actually hostile. "Too little, too late, Joe." His voice was almost shaking. "I will work with you on the Cotnig case. We can't go back from here. After Cotnig is in jail or I kill him and he rots in hell, this is it. I can't work with you anymore-ever. And though I will always love you, I can NEVER trust you again. I don't care that you don't understand. I asked you ONE thing- I BEGGED you. It's over."

Joe sucked in his breath, tears falling from his eyes. What was Frank saying? Why was he being so unreasonable? He had admitted his mistake, apologized, asked Frank to see things from his point of view- and THIS was Frank's response?

"You're letting a case break us?" Joe choked out, incredulous. "You really don't want to work with me? You really don't trust me? Are you serious?!"

"Yes," Frank replied, unable to look Joe in his eyes. "I am."

"But-" Joe cut in, but Frank stated "no!" strongly at the same time.

"The Cotnig case, Joe. We need to deal with that now."

Joe could barely breathe.

"One last thing," Frank added, as he turned to leave, holding JJ close. "I am telling you this for your own good. Despite everything- I am telling you to watch your back. The guy who you're so willing to believe in is no lunatic, and he's playing you. He is dangerous. Joe-" Frank repeated, briefly meeting his eyes, "be careful."

He turned back and slowly started to climb the stairs. In shock, Joe could only stare after him. What in hell had just happened? He sank back onto the couch, tears streaming from his eyes, heart broken. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what he stood for anymore, what his convictions were. And he'd never felt so lost.


	15. Chapter 15

**Note:** _I so appreciate those of you who took the time to leave reviews on the last chapter: max 2013, Paulina Ann, hbndgirl, BMSH, ulstergirl, Erin Jordan, Evergreen Dreamweaver, and Caranath. Reading what you have to say always makes me smile AND it makes me think. All of the questions that you've posed have answers- I can promise you that. It's tough when everyone is both wrong and right at the same time. All of this family tension is reaching a climax... but there are also two cases to solve as well. :)_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 15

Joe rubbed his eyes, tired and drained. After Frank's outburst and unbelievable words last night, he'd been unable to sleep, tossing and turning. He must have woken Vanessa up at least half a dozen times, and she'd just held him after he told her what Frank had said. His head hurt; his collarbone was killing him. The stupid brace he had to wear did help, but it was uncomfortable and it hurt to move his neck to the side, the pain sometimes shooting up into his jaw and ear.

But more than anything, his heart hurt. What had he done that was so awful-really- to cause Frank to say that he would never trust him again, would never want to work with him again? He could understand that Frank was hurt, but his reaction seemed extreme. He wanted to react emotionally right back, but this time he was going to make a concerted effort to be logical, and again it felt as if he had switched roles with his brother. There had to be a reason that Frank would reacting against him so strongly, and he would try to find out what that reason was. Because, if there wasn't a reason- hell, even if there was- Frank had hurt him so deeply he didn't know if he could ever go back, either. Maybe Frank would get his wish.

He was grateful, as always, for Vanessa. She was standing by his side without question, and he knew that she was torn between him and Callie, especially. He hated to see her under stress in the best of times, but she was carrying his child, and he was more worried about her than ever. She had become indignant on his behalf, and had insisted that they leave for their own home as soon as possible. He couldn't help but to agree, and had texted his father that he would meet him at the office later instead of at Frank's house, offering no explanation.

It had been a busy morning. He'd left early with the police officer; seen George Atwood, Roy Grant's attorney, who had given him additional information about Grant's case and had asked Joe to review the files before meeting with him again the next day. Then, figuring that Frank certainly wasn't going to help him on the Grant case, he'd called Pat Merkel and asked him to meet with him at his house, where he now sat with the files in front of him, having been driven home by the officer.

He waited.

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Callie had just finished a thorough housecleaning, and had decided to sit for a few minutes while JJ slept. She realized she had overdone it, as her back was starting to throb. She took a shaky breath as she felt a slight cramp and pressure in her abdomen as well. She placed her hand on her stomach as assurance that things were okay. For barely four months along-15 weeks, she was certainly showing. Being so petite, every pound showed on her, and, just like with JJ, it was all in her belly.

She took a deep breath, so grateful for this life inside her. She knew she was in for a rough road; just felt it. She still had problems gaining the right amount of weight, her most recent blood test had suggested that her anemia issues might just be coming back again, and the stress of everything was causing her back and lower belly pain that she knew could be bad. The accident and sprain hadn't helped, and it was hard to relax at all with the Grant case, Cotnig loose, the thick tension with Frank and Joe, and being the mother of an eight month old baby. Truth be told, she really did need help. Laura and her own mom had been wonderful, but she was excited to have Vanessa here with her as well.

But now- now, that wasn't going to happen. She had seen the message from Vanessa last night via text, the message that had explained that she and Joe were leaving because of some fight that Joe and Frank had apparently had- again. And she understood- Joe and Van were a team; she and Frank were a team. But it hurt nonetheless. And Frank's stoicism when she had told him bothered her, because she saw the pain in his eyes despite his silence as he'd held her in his arms, not speaking a word. She loved him so much, and it was awful- truly awful- not to be able to help him.

She jumped when she heard Vanessa behind her.

"Sorry," Vanessa said, squeezing her shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you. Can I have one?" she asked, pointing to the muffins that Callie had just baked which smelled absolutely delicious.

"Of course," Callie replied. "All yours."

Vanessa smiled and bit into the muffin, which tasted even better than it smelled. "Mmmmm. Heaven," she said softly.

"Glad you liked it. Orange juice?" Callie asked, and Vanessa nodded. "Please."

When Callie returned with two glasses, she sat down next to Vanessa, who eyed her critically. "Aren't you eating breakfast?" Vanessa asked, and Callie shook her head.

"I really should," she admitted. "But my stomach is all off. I'll have some eggs or toast or an apple later," she added.

Vanessa took a deep breath, trying to avoid the real reason for this conversation. After last night, things were strained with them, but more than bearable. Callie had spoken her piece, and had been loving and gracious as she had done so. But Laura's words echoed in her head; Joe's heartache was fresh in her mind. And all of that was balanced against concern for her sister-in-law, who was looking a little pale and more than a little uncomfortable the last few days.

"Cal? Are you feeling okay?" she asked, concerned. "You're only two weeks behind me, and you were doing awesome until a little while ago. Are you starting to have issues again?" She reached for her hand, which Callie took.

"Some," Callie answered honestly. "I just need to try to relax, get back on iron supplements, and try to avoid the bed rest which I KNOW will be coming in a few months if I'm not careful. I'm okay."

"How much weight have you gained?" Vanessa asked.

Callie shrugged. "I don't know. Four pounds- five?"

Vanessa's mouth fell open. "But you look more pregnant than I do, and I've gained 15!" she exclaimed, stunned.

Callie chuckled. "Yeah, and you're almost 8 inches taller than I am, so that's not a big deal."

"I guess," Vanessa replied, sipping her drink again. "Have you been thinking about baby names?"

"Van, I've barely had time to think about anything at all," she replied, nonchalantly. "How about you? You must be so thrilled to find out what you're having- only three weeks to go- how exciting!"

Vanessa's expression softened. "Yeah, I am," she admitted. "I don't know about names, though. You know my husband. He has every variation of "Joe" possible," she said with a small laugh.

"OOOH," Callie teased as an idea came to her. "I have the BEST name for you- and it could be for a boy or girl. I can't believe this didn't come to me earlier."

"Well?" Vanessa said at last, caught up in Callie's enthusiasm.

"Ready?" she asked with a laugh. "JoVan." She said it with a French accent, exaggerating the Zho-Von sounds, eyes twinkling.

Vanessa almost spit out her drink and started laughing. This was her best friend. These were their normal, silly conversations. She'd missed this so much, and, with a pang, she couldn't help but wonder how many more they'd have if things kept up this way.

Finally, she calmed down and felt tears unexpectedly come to her eyes. "I'm sorry that I had to tell you via text. I couldn't face you," she said, honestly.

"I understand," Callie replied, clearing her throat. "I wish things were different."

"Me, too," Vanessa said in a shaky voice. "I want you to understand Joe's point of view," she had to add.

Callie took a deep breath. "Vanessa," she said quietly, "I don't. I feel like Joe is against Johnny."

"He's not!" Vanessa emphasized. "And why does Johnny even matter more to you than Joe does?"

Callie looked shocked. "What?" she sputtered.

"Johnny was an amazing, wonderful person," Vanessa said, Laura's voice ringing in her head. "And I can understand why you are so loyal to him; to his memory. But you act like you love him sometimes more than Joe, and, you know- I mean, sometimes more than Frank."

Callie felt struck and gasped for air. She stood up at once. Vanessa regretted the words immediately. She'd so desperately wanted to understand why Callie and Frank wouldn't give Joe a chance that she'd just crossed a line, herself. She'd never seen Callie look so personally affronted. Callie covered her mouth with both hands and tears fell from her eyes almost immediately. "That's what you think?" she squeaked out. "After everything that Johnny did for you? You think I was- what- in _love_ with him? Had a _romantic_ relationship with him? _Slept_ with him? What?! You may as well tell me instead of thinking it or talking about me behind my back. You think that Johnny meant more to me than my husband does? Do I even know you?!"

Vanessa stood herself, crying now, too. "I'm sorry, Callie. No. I didn't mean that. Forgive me. Please. I … I know he was just your friend."

Callie was still trying to catch her breath. Her hands were now on her back, and she looked to be in pain. "That really hurts me," Callie managed. "He WAS more 'than just a friend'- much more, but not in the way you're implying. Where did you get this crazy idea? Since when? You're- you're like my sister. God, Vanessa. Really?" she asked again, incredulous.

"No," Vanessa stammered. "I just didn't understand your whole relationship with him. That's all."

Callie took a few deep breaths and willed herself to be calm, fought the sickness she felt at Vanessa's words, which had cut her to the core. Finally, she looked into Vanessa's eyes and spoke with a calmness that came from somewhere outside herself. She held up a pointer finger. "You know what?" she said quietly. "You don't need to understand my relationship with Johnny OR with my husband. What kills me is that I thought you _did_. I know how very much I loved Johnny, and, quite frankly, my relationship with that man WAS exceptional, but I will tell you anyway what you have no right to hear: he was my truest friend and confidante, my protector, my guardian angel. That's all you need to know and what you should have already known. Anything else is really none of your business, though you apparently think it is. And if you don't know by now, after years and years, how much I adore my husband, how in love with him I am, then damn, Vanessa. You don't know me at all."

"I'm sorry," Vanessa had gone too far. "You're right. 100%. I just wanted you to-"

"To what, Vanessa?" Callie asked, deadly calm. "To say that I see why Joe is willing to sacrifice Johnny's name so easily? I don't. Vanessa, there are some things you will _never_ understand. But I mean this- LAY OFF about Johnny, and don't you DARE ever mention his name like that again. See the innuendo? That's exactly what the press will do to him." She took a deep breath, biting her lip as a spasm hit her lower back.

"Are you okay?" Vanessa asked, horrified.

Callie finally caught her breath. "No. I'm not- for a lot of reasons. Go, Vanessa. It's time; you were right."

Vanessa nodded, wiping tears from her eyes. Joe had crossed a line with Frank; she had crossed a line with Callie. Their parallels were striking.

And the thing about parallel lines were, if they were left alone, they went on forever, always separate.

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Joe sat with Pat, and, oddly, Biff, who had come to check on him, in his living room.

"Wait. So you want me to help, too?" Biff asked, surprised.

"Well, with Frank not here, I figured two minds were better than one," Joe replied.

"You mean, three minds were better than two," Biff corrected.

"No," Joe said with a smirk. "I meant what I said. Pat's a big help to me. You're welcome to occupy space meaninglessly here, though, just like at your own apartment."

Pat chuckled as he started flipping through the file on Grant. It was his day off, but he had come to help his Joe out as best he could. The whole situation sucked. Frank was a good man, a truly genuine, thoughtful, intelligent person, and he complemented Joe's larger than life personality perfectly. Their rift was affecting everyone, even him, as he liked Frank a lot, though he'd always been closer to Joe.

"You're a regular comedian," Biff retorted.

Joe laughed. It felt good to be normal, if only for a little while. Biff would always be himself, and Pat was the consummate police officer personality- funny, responsible, and more than a little ready to party at a moment's notice. His closest friends were just like them-they didn't take life so damned seriously. Biff was always up for fun and couldn't plan for the future if he was given a script. Pat had seen death many, many times, and saw just how random life was; how fleeting. So he never worried about anything. They were easy to talk to, laid back, chill. They were, he realized, also very much like Johnny, whom he had started to know pretty well the past few years. And like Frank used to be, though he hid it from most people. The thought tugged at his heart.

Still, he needed that type of support now, even in this case that was, very much, about life or death.

"So what do we know?" Pat asked Joe, and Biff listened. Joe tossed them copies of the files he had on Grant.

Joe began. "I need you guys to look through these files and see if I missed anything. We know Grant's mom died and his dad is out of the picture. He was in foster homes in Louisiana; school records are shoddy. He came up to New York about four years ago, when he was just 16, having dropped out of school. Worked in the theaters locally. This is where the timeline gets important. At first, he said he didn't know Johnny, but then, all of a sudden, he said he did- and knew Johnson, too- before the production started. I think that could actually be possible if we can keep track of where he was in New York for those four years."

After some time, with each one re-examining the different files, Joe spoke again. "So I'm going to ask you to start here. What stood out to you? It doesn't need to make sense, but what do you think is significant?" It was so weird reviewing case files without his brother. He had to articulate what Frank would have already known to do without saying a word.

"Uh," Biff started, "I don't know. How did he get to Louisiana?"

"What do you mean?" Joe asked.

"Did you see he was born in New York?" Biff added. "Like, how did he go from New York to Louisiana to New York again?"

"Hmmm," Joe sounded. "Actually, I think I missed that. That could be important."

"See?! I'm not always an idiot," Biff replied proudly. "I think I'll get another beer!" He got up to go into the kitchen.

Joe bit back a sarcastic response and watched as Pat tried not to laugh. "That's his contribution?" he said in a low voice to Pat. "If this turns into a drinking game where every time Biff says something NOT inane, he'll be shitfaced in no time."

Pat raised his eyebrows. "Or he just had his one beer of the day," Pat replied, deadpanned, and Joe laughed so hard he shook.

"Miss me, morons?" Biff asked, sitting back down.

"Score one, Merkel," Pat said, and Joe laughed even harder.

"So what did you get on the birthplace angle?" Biff asked.

"Angle?" Joe asked, catching his breath. "Biff, there's no angle. That was a _fact_ that I missed. But thanks."

"No problem," Biff replied seriously.

"I was thinking, Joe- I'm no detective, bud, but did you look at the thing about his mom?" Pat asked.

"Yeah- she died, right? Mysterious circumstances?" Joe queried.

"Well, she committed suicide. Drowning. Isn't that weird? Not a normal way to off yourself."

"Hmm," Joe replied. "Yeah, that's true. Why and how would she do that? I think the file said she took pills and drowned in a bathtub."

"Hey!" Biff interjected. "Didn't you say this dude is obsessed with Shakespeare? Didn't Lady Macbeth die in a pool or some shit like that?"

Joe and Pat looked at each other. "You're a veritable scholar, man," Pat answered dryly.

"No," Joe answered with a laugh, but then became more serious. "But Hamlet's mom- no, his girlfriend- committed suicide by drowning. Maybe there's something to that."

"Like an obsession with a girl or something?" Biff asked.

"Yup," Joe replied, plainly.

"And there's no real mention of the birth father," Pat went on. "Not listed on the birth certificate. Grant was the mom's last name. That's not out of the norm for this kind of family environment."

"And he got to New York and it says he stayed with …" Joe looked at the file closely before continuing, "here it is. A cousin. Horatio Daniels. What the hell kind of name is that?"

"It's Hamlet's best friend's name," Biff answered seriously.

"No it's not," Joe retorted.

"It actually is," Pat validated. "Well, the Horatio part anyway. How the hell did you know that, Biff?"

Biff blushed. "I was watching _CSI Miami_ and there's a dude named Horatio on the show, and so I looked up where the name came from. I thought it was kind of cool."

"Maybe we should visit this Horatio," Joe said, seriously. "Anyone up for a ride? Let me see if I can get an up- to-date address. Tomorrow?"

"I have to work. Some people around here have real jobs, Hardy," Biff answered. "Tomorrow night, maybe," he added.

Joe smiled. "Thanks, Biff, but I was hoping for during the day. Pat?"

Pat nodded. "Yeah, that's fine. My girlfriend has work all day and I'm off again. Nothing I'd rather be doing on my day off than chasing down suspects and criminals. It's so far removed from my daily job- night and day." He smirked and shook his head.

"I appreciate it, man," Joe said. After another hour or so of hanging out and catching up, half looking at the files and having a solid plan, Joe bid Biff goodbye and checked his watch. Now off to case #2. Cotnig.

And Frank.

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When he arrived at the office, Joe was startled when his father met him at the door and ushered him in. "You okay, dad?" he asked. He'd been driven there by Pat, who had offered him a ride on his way home, since Joe's own arm prevented him from driving.

"No, not really. I'm waiting for your brother. I have some bad news," he went on.

"What's wrong?" Joe asked, on instant alert.

"It's Aunt Gertrude," he said in a shaky voice. "She was rushed to the hospital last night. The doctors called me- they think she may have had a mild heart attack."

Joe became solemn right away. Aunt Gertrude, his father's sister, had lived with them for years before moving into a retirement community several hours away. She was ten years older than his father, a woman who hid her sense of humor and deep love for his family beneath a stern, proper, disapproving facade. She could be a tyrant, but he loved her. She had a heart of gold and a multitude of stories to tell, and she had always looked out for him and Frank. This was terrible.

"Is she okay?" he asked softly.

"For now," Fenton replied, clearly upset. "Mom and I are going to see her tomorrow. But- Joe, the worst part is… is that I think the heart attack may have had a precipitating event."

"Which is what?" Joe asked.

"She told the doctor that she had received a poem on yellow letterhead. She took it with her to the emergency room, and the doctor took a picture of it and sent it to me after I spoke with him. It says, " **The lives of detective, family, friend/ Things done in the past will now be avenged."**

Joe shook his head. "Aunt Gertrude was the "G"?" he asked. "Dad- this should mean, if Frank was right, that the pattern may be ending and he may be starting the circle back to you."

"We need to talk when Frank gets here," Fenton said with conviction. "This game is in its later stages. We have to get ahead of him now."

Together, they turned into his office, awaiting Frank's arrival. It was a game they could not afford to lose.


	16. Chapter 16

**Note** : _I'm posting this a day early, for no particular reason. :) This chapter marks the halfway point of the story. Thank you all for your support, which is so appreciated. I do love hearing from you! Special thanks to the following people for their reviews since the last chapter: Red Hardy (ch. 4-8- your feedback was amazing- thank you!), hbndgirl, ErinJordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, ulstergirl, Hero 76, Paulina Ann, max 2013, caranath, BMSH, and Guest. Every review made me smile and think!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 16

"DaDa!" JJ cried, holding up his arms. "UpUpUp!"

Frank smiled, lifted JJ from his Pack and Play, and nuzzled his nose. "What's up, buddy?" he asked. JJ clapped his hands and Frank laughed. "Want to play?" he asked, and sat on the floor, JJ on his lap, taking out one of his son's stuffies.

"Look- it's Mr. Duck!" Frank said as he made a swimming gesture. "There's Mr. Duck's brother," he went on. "Mr. Duck #1 and Mr. Duck #2. One, two…" he went on counting as he watched JJ try to mimic his sounds. Plus, if there was a way to play and teach math, he was all for it. That's what he loved about numbers and math: things made sense, had solutions, had no gray areas. How amazing it would be if math could be a metaphor for life, though Callie would have told him that the beauty of life was in the grays and subjectivity. He smiled wistfully when he thought of how he had fallen in love with a woman who loved Shakespeare and literature, drama, and language, literally the opposite of his math, science, and computer inclined mind. He wondered briefly who JJ would take after in his personality, if it would be him, and then decided he didn't care. JJ would be lucky if he took after his amazing mommy.

As he played, Frank found himself looking at JJ and counting his blessings. No matter what else was going wrong in his life, looking at JJ represented everything good. Being a father was such a surreal experience, even now, but his little boy had changed him, altered his life forever, in impossibly beautiful ways. He was the most perfect little baby Frank had ever seen, and looking at him was a reminder of everything precious life had to offer.

"J?" he asked, kissing his head. "Daddy needs some exercise, little guy. Wanna do daddy chest presses?" he asked. He laid on his back and picked JJ up, starting to lift him up and down to JJ's absolute delight and laughter. JJ couldn't weigh more than 16 or 17 pounds, tops, and Frank was used to the exercise with 50 pound dumbells, but, as he lifted JJ and brought him down each time to give him a kiss, he decided JJ exercise was much more fun.

Just as he was hitting his stride, the doorbell rang, and Frank sat up. "Cal?" he called out. "I think it's Phil. Can you get that?"

Callie appeared immediately. "Honey, let me grab JJ and give him some lunch," she replied. She bent over to pick up JJ and winced, which Frank noted at once.

"Callie?" he asked, concerned, as he stood up and handed JJ to her, rather than having her bend down.

"Back back day," she admitted lightly, and kissed JJ, who started cuddling into her shoulder.

"Mamamama," he uttered, and Frank laughed. "He's such a traitor!"

Callie winked. "Go have fun with Phil or do whatever you're going to do. I'm fine. Sandwiches and soda and water are in the fridge. I'm in the kitchen if you need anything."

As soon as she turned to go, Frank answered the door. "Phil!" he said happily. "Thanks for coming."

Phil smiled and gave Frank a quick hug. "Sure thing, buddy," he replied. "Good to see you, man."

Frank ushered Phil into the living room and indicated for him to have a seat. He had asked Phil Cohen, his best friend since high school, to stop by to see if he could help him out with some research. Phil had finished his Masters degree in Computer Science at MIT, and now was working at a top programming company in Manhattan and working his way towards a PhD at NYU. He was one of the smartest people Frank knew and he was an expert, unofficially, in hacking. He needed his friend's advice now if he was going to keep his promise to beat Joe at his own game.

"Man," said Phil, plopping on the couch, "look at you and Callie. Life in suburbia, a baby, another on the way- where's the minivan and golden retriever?"

Frank laughed. "Callie thought we should wait for the minivan until we could get a sticker that says _My kid is an honor roll student_ at whatever school."

"Bet Joe will get one that says _My kid beat up your honor roll student_ ," Phil teased. Seeing the smile diminish a bit on Frank's face, Phil added, "I'm sorry about this whole case, Frank. Really. I know what you went through the last time this maniac was on the loose, and I hate to see you and Joe divided here. I'll be honest- I was kind of relieved when the guy didn't go by last names."

"Why?" Frank asked. "Because your name starts with C?"

"No- because I'm Jewish," Phil laughed. "Yeah, of _course_ because my last name starts with C!" he joked. "Whew- someone is off his game today."

Frank grinned ruefully. "I really am. My apologies. Thanks for coming over to help."

"No problem. I'm glad to see you- really. It's been awhile. I just wish it were under better circumstances. Sorry I was late. I stopped at Starbucks before I came here and I couldn't decide on a Caramel Frap or a Mocha Cappuccino."

Frank rolled his eyes. "First world problems," he quipped.

"Still enjoying chess as a pastime?" Phil countered with a wink.

"Touche," Frank answered, chuckling.

"Oh my goodness!" Callie interjected as she came from the kitchen. When Phil stood up, she gave him a hug. "It's more like Ivy League geek problems in here," she teased. "I just wanted to say hi briefly. When you guys are done, come and get some lunch and see JJ again. That'll get you down from intellectual joking to real world issues." With a final wave, she returned to the kitchen.

"She's as gorgeous as ever," Phil told Frank, and he nodded.

"She is!" he agreed. "Any special lady in your life?"

"Right now, her name is Siri and we're in a committed, very time consuming relationship," Phil joked. Then, he added, more seriously, "Well, there IS someone…"

After a good hour of catching up, Phil asked, "Okay, buddy. You have me here. How can I help?"

Frank sighed before filling Phil in on the Grant case. He concluded, "so the upshot here is that I know this lunatic is- well, _not_ a lunatic. I know he's faking the whole thing. But Joe believes that the guy is insane and isn't capable of defending himself. I need your help in digging up dirt on the guy. I already got copies of the files from Chief Collig- the same ones that Joe got that he didn't tell me about. I need to see what we can get in addition to this, and that's where your computer skills come in. You're better than I am!"

Phil looked uncomfortable. "Frank," he said at last, "I'll help you, of course. I just don't like the idea of you doing all this just to beat Joe. I mean, there's a REAL lunatic- Cotnig- on the loose. Maybe you guys should work together on that case?" he suggested.

Frank's eyes darkened. "We ARE working together on it," he answered. "I'm meeting Joe and dad tonight at the office. I just need to work on this case. Please, Phil. It's just- it's really important to me that I can prove that Grant is sane. It'll perhaps allow for him to represent himself in court, or, more important, if I can find dirt on the guy, it'll discredit any statements that he may make, including those about Johnny, if Grant has a sketchy past."

"You know that there's no way that what you told me he said about Johnny is true," Phil said, steadfast. "I didn't know Johnny that well, but he seemed like a really good, genuine guy."

"He was," Frank replied.

"And I trust your judgement… and Callie's… and all your friends will, too. So don't worry about what we would think of Johnny. But I see your point about what it could do to him in the press, so let's see what we can find. May I?" he asked, indicating Frank's open laptop.

Frank gestured with his hand. "All yours."

It was fun watching Phil work. Frank made it a point to commit to memory some of Phil's strategies for finding out information that most people wouldn't have access to. Phil created a file and dropped several additional pages for Frank to peruse later before, at last, closing the laptop.

"There's a lot of info there, Frank," Phil concluded. "I tried to condense as much of it as I could. I have his jobs from Louisiana to New York; all of his family information, including foster home information; education records; theater productions; copies of job applications, credit info- it's all there. It'll take you some time to go through it, but I cannot imagine the best of lawyers getting access to this info so quickly. Oh- and I know we're best friends and all, but I took the liberty of completely wiping off the browser history and any evidence of the searches, and I used a VPN to obscure the IP addresses. Trust me- it's better for me and you if this whole afternoon didn't happen. Clear?" he asked.

"Crystal," Frank replied. "Thank you so much," Frank replied, patting Phil on the back as he went to leave.

Phil had been such a tremendous help, and Frank was so grateful for him. Unlike Joe, who had tons of friends around him at all times, he had always been more reserved; shy. He'd been lucky to have had many friends, himself, from all walks of his life: work, school, sports, jobs, and had somehow found himself to be as popular as his brother, in a very different way. But the truth was that he was just more comfortable in smaller groups or one- on -one with people, and Phil had always been a loyal and trustworthy person. Right now, if he was being honest with himself, the only person he'd truly had to talk to was Callie, and though he loved her more than life, sometimes it was nice to just have his other friends around to laugh and joke with. It's not like Callie didn't understand that- she did-and she always encouraged him to go out and have fun. But fatherhood had changed him on one hand-he often just wanted to be with his little family; and, on the other, he couldn't really have that much fun without Joe, and that option was off the table at this point.

"You okay?" Phil asked him, noting how pensive Frank had become.

"Fine," Frank replied with an apologetic smile. "You don't feel like analyzing any of the notes from the Cotnig file, do you?" he asked lightly.

"I wish I could," Phil replied. "But poetry isn't my thing. An idea, though- did you ever think about letting your wife look at the notes? She likes English-y things."

No. He hadn't actually thought of that. "That's not a half- bad idea," Frank stated.

"What's not?" Callie asked, coming from the kitchen with JJ.

"Hey! Awww!" Phil said, smiling immediately as he saw the baby. "It's a little mini-Frank!" he added, as Frank gently took JJ from Callie's arms.

"Duck 2!" JJ murmured, pointing at his toy on the couch by Phil. His wording was almost unintelligible, having really only mastered "mama," "dada," "unca", and "up." Frank and Callie looked at each other- "duck" was a new one.

"What?!" Phil asked, flabbergasted. "What kind of language are you teaching your kid?"

Frank stared at Phil, confused, and then, when Callie got it, she burst out laughing. "You know what Phil? Duck you."

Frank laughed, too, as he bid Phil goodbye. The information that Phil had found was probably going to be very important, and Frank knew he would look over it after his meeting tonight with his dad and brother. But more than that, for just a moment, he had remembered what it was like to be relaxed and to laugh. He had missed it more than he would have liked to admit.

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Later that night, Frank somberly let himself into the office. His dad had called him and informed him about what had happened with Aunt Gertrude, and he couldn't believe it. He'd last seen his aunt only three months ago at JJ's baptism, where Joe and Vanessa had stood up as his godparents. Gertrude had looked on proudly, and he had felt his heart swell with pride when his normally reserved aunt had told him what a beautiful family he had; how she was so "tickled" by the "fine young man" he had become. He could only hope that she was okay, and also hope that this wasn't a turning point as Cotnig may have begun to circle back to his father.

The whole case was a mess. He was worried about his aunt and father, as well as Chief Collig. He was confused about the break- in at his office and upset about Joe's beating. He was still sick about Callie's accident and could not shake his totally instinctive feeling that Callie and JJ were somehow in danger. Plus, he hadn't spoken with Joe since last night, and he had been really upset to see that Joe had left his home without a word. And finally, Callie had told him about what Vanessa had said about Johnny, and that was one of the most upsetting things of all. He didn't keep secrets from Callie, or she from him, and he'd seen how deeply hurt she had been over Vanessa's comments. If there was anywhere he would NOT tolerate people going, it was _there,_ much less from his brother and sister- in- law. He would have been even more outraged than he already was, had it not been for the pain he was feeling for Callie that was distracting him. He could still practically feel her trembling in his arms, could feel her tears on his shirt, as she had told him what Vanessa had said.

His family was falling apart right before his eyes, and it was breaking his heart.

He entered his father's office, where the lights were on, and crossed his arms. His hurt was showing through his defiance and defensiveness, and he recognized it, but felt powerless to act on it. He felt trapped and honestly didn't know what to say.

"Hi, son," Fenton greeted him, sadly. "I know you know about Aunt Gertrude. So now I think it's time we revisit some of the messages. It's too much to go through tonight, since there have been seven left so far, so I thought we could look at them just generally for content and go from there."

"Fine," Frank replied, curtly. He didn't trust himself to speak to his brother, who was sitting at his dad's desk, also avoiding eye contact.

Fenton sighed before going to get the first four messages. "Listen, boys," he said, directly, "we need to work together. My sister is in the hospital right now, and we are all in danger. I know you're both angry and hurt and annoyed at each other, but drop it for now. Got it?"

Joe just nodded, and Frank didn't say a word.

Fenton returned shortly and spread out the images which he had printed. "Okay, boys. Let's review. Here are the messages in order," he began.

"First, we have the message sent to Tony Prito on red paper. It says, " **Though precious moments do head your way now/ This time I will say that they will not last."**

"Thoughts?" he asked them.

Frank shrugged. "I mean, not to state the obvious, but all the messages have been in alphabetical order, so we can't lose sight of that. They're a day apart and mostly, with the exception of the note that came to my house on the formula box, they're all delivered at night to the front or back door, despite police presence. We are waiting on a print, and we know that Cotnig can't be working alone because of that. Plus, dad- there has been nothing on Chief Collig yet, and that's a concern. Why? Just because he is protected, it shouldn't make a difference. So, too, were we, and we were attacked. I have a bad feeling about it. I don't know. Precious moments? I guess the implication is that things are going well for all of us and that's not going to last," he replied.

Fenton nodded. "Okay. Again- tonight- let's just go for meaning. Joe, let us know if you don't agree, okay?"

Joe nodded. "Yup," he answered, still trying to avoid talking to Frank, but to help his father. It was awkward, to say the least.

"The next message was sent to Biff," Fenton continued. "It was on orange paper. It reads, " **Be so vigilant; do not ask for how/ Madness fleeting really remains a mask"**. Thoughts, Joe?"

Joe cracked his knuckles. "Be vigilant means to be aware that he's coming. He won't tell us how- so I guess we'll be surprised. Maybe he's hiding that he's mad, which could be angry- or crazy. Maybe he's masking his intentions."

"As good a guess as any," Fenton agreed, as Frank remained silent. He decided to ignore the feud for a bit longer. "Moving on," he continued, "the next message was sent to Chet on yellow paper. It says, " **Yet will you question why I act so frank? /There eventually you will bother**."

"Yeah, see- that concerns me," Frank said evenly. "We are questioning why he is acting a certain way, but it's missing a comma- because, if it had one, it would seem like it's directed right to me. "Act so, Frank?", right? And bother sounds an awful lot like 'brother.' And I'm bothered by it, but not now- eventually? So maybe it meant I wouldn't be concerned with things until they affected me directly, which, with the message to my house, it did."

"I don't like that play on your name, either," Fenton admitted. "I want to come back to that. The next one was delivered to Don, and it said, on green paper, " **I** **s cause for revenge enough? For some, thanks,/ Method dying? Not so for your father."** I don't like that, either. Cause for revenge is the ONLY thing that seems to be motivating him, though he says that for some people- maybe him?- that's the only case. What the hell is method dying, unless it means method of dying? The wording on all of these lines is convoluted. That concerns me, too. Why? Everything Cotnig does means something."

"That's what we're trying to see, dad," Joe pointed out. "Anyway, look-". He pointed to the next one. "Chief Collig- EZRA- got the next one. That's on red paper and says, " **In fact, in due time, the young and bright sun/ It your guiding star, will finally die out.** " So I guess it is getting to be the time now- we are due for it, or he's taunting me and Frank? Because maybe it was "son" and not "sun." And I'm the young one and Frank is supposedly the bright one." He rolled his eyes. "I'm over that stupid stereotype," he muttered. "Or..." he stopped, as the terrible thought came to him. "It could be JJ. He's Frank's son." He took a deep breath, unable to fathom the thought or to meet Frank's eyes. "I have no idea what or who the guiding star is, but the die out seems obvious. Unless it means 'outside'," he finished.

"And then there's mine," Frank said quietly. "We know the different format. It was on orange paper and it read, " **The time and the pattern for me have been fun/ Plays and works converge; detectives will doubt."** He ran a hand through his hair. "Okay. So he's having a great time with this; the pattern is emerging. Work and play come together. We're doubting something."

"And then finally Gertrude," Fenton concluded. "She received a yellow paper that says, " **The lives of detective, family, friend/ Things done in the past will now be avenged."** That seems the most self-explanatory," Fenton concluded. "The NOW part leads me to believe the pattern will change."

"I guess we have to see if an "H" comes along," Joe added. Then, furrowing his brows, he went on, "This may be nothing, but the message to Aunt Gertrude seems to rhyme more. We'll have to look at it. Maybe it's just emphasizing its importance. Any thoughts on the colors, dad?" he asked, avoiding Frank still. Two could play at this game.

Frank glared at him but said nothing.

Fenton sighed inwardly before speaking. "Not yet," he admitted, "but I'll look up color symbolism and see if I can extract some meaning. Frank, you see if you can detect a pattern with the colors. Joe, you study the order and the language. Can we do that - and see if there is an "H" message tomorrow- and then reconvene as quickly as possible, over the next day or so?"

"Sure," Joe agreed. Again, Frank remained silent.

"Fine. Good night," Fenton said. He pointedly look at first Joe, then Frank, before speaking again. "You two need to forget the other case right now and concentrate on this one. Priorities, boys. I always thought you two could handle multiple cases at the same time, but you're letting your personal issues interfere, and you need to stop it." He turned quickly and left them behind.

Frank looked at his kid brother, hurt beyond measure that he had left his home without telling him; that he had betrayed his trust and denied his request; that he was going to destroy his dear friend's reputation; that he had hurt Callie; that Vanessa had hurt Callie.

And Joe looked back at his big brother, reeling from Frank's words last night; his lack of faith and trust in him; his complete failure to understand his moral obligation to help someone; his lack of comprehension that this case had nothing to do with Johnny, whom he cared for and liked very much.

This wasn't the Grant case versus the Cotnig case. It was brother versus brother. And, in that case, there could be no winners.


	17. Chapter 17

**Note** : _I'd like to thank everyone so much for following and especially taking the time to review this story. I really want to have a conversation with so many of you about what you think, and you make me really excited to continue to write, revise, and edit. In fact, the next chapter will be one of the most pivotal in the story and will explain a lot (and wow and I nervous to post it!). It makes me very happy to have people defending different brothers and family members, since family dynamics and complexities are hard to pin down to one person's fault. Even Biff and Pat support Joe but tell him to work it out with Frank, and Phil supports Frank, but tells him to work it out with Joe. Many thanks for the reviews since the last chapter, which I so, so appreciate: Hlahabibty, SnowPrincess 88, Red Hardy (remember- trust me! haha), hbndgirl, Moon in Scorpio, Caranath, BMSH, Hero 76, max 2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, ulstergirl, Erin Jordan, and Paulina Ann._

 _Warning: cursing/ slang_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 17

The next morning, Joe gazed out the window as Pat drove into one of the more dangerous sections of Brooklyn, trying to review the specifics of the case.

"Pat, thanks again for coming with me on your day off," he said absently.

"You mean serving as your chauffeur," Pat teased. "No problem, man. I'm pretty eager for you to get this cased closed, too. It's depressing." He signaled and moved over a lane, promptly giving the finger to the person who had cut him off.

Joe suppressed a smile. "Aggression much?" he asked.

Pat laughed. "Nah. This is awesome, actually. When I'm on duty, I can't do that. Freaking Collig and his "model officer"- he made air quotes- "policies."

"So do people flip you the bird a lot when you're on duty?" Joe asked, amused.

"No. Most people are afraid I'll pull them over. I have a few times, too. Gave them tickets for illegal hand motion signals when driving."

Joe started laughing. "That's clever," he responded.

"Whatever it takes to get through the day. This job is 90% boredom, 10% insanity." He glanced sidelong at Joe. "Unless _you're_ involved. Then reverse the damned numbers."

"I wish I could say that wasn't true," Joe admitted.

"Joe? Can I ask you a question?" Past asked, as he honked the horn. "GOD!" he exclaimed. "I freaking _love_ city driving. Take that, you A-Hole!" he shouted out the window. He honked again repeatedly.

"That wasn't a question," Joe answered, eyes twinkling.

"Shut up, wise ass," Pat answered. "I was going to ask if you and Frank had talked and worked your issues out. I just think that both cases would be better served if you actually talked to each other."

Joe felt the color rise to his face. Pat was always like this: direct, no affectation, but steadfast, loyal, and damned funny. He'd always liked that Pat was reliable and not two-faced. You got what you saw with him, and it was incredibly refreshing. "It's complicated," he said at last.

Pat sighed as he navigated the streets. "Yeah, okay. Fine. But you know I like your brother a lot, Joe. He's a good guy. He puts up with your shit all the time and he's loyal as hell. I just think that if something is really important to him, you should maybe try to listen. That's all."

"Uh huh," Joe replied. Frank's words, behavior, and actions since Joe had decided to get on the Grant case had killed him. He'd never seen his big brother so angry at him, and he was caught between anger in retaliation and disappointment. He was even second guessing himself at times, because Pat was right- Frank WAS a good guy, and what he had done that was so bad to him- worthy of losing his trust and not working with him, ever- was still beyond his comprehension. It hurt too badly to contemplate.

Seeing how Joe was quiet and obviously upset, Pat added, "I mean, damn. If you don't have Frank around, you might start taking advice from Hooper. I'd hate to see _that_ happen."

Joe smiled. Pat was okay.

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Ten minutes later, Joe and Pat had parked and made their way to an aging apartment complex.

"Act normally," Joe said in a low voice. "And leave the more complex talking to me."

Pat shook his head. "I'm sure as hell not going to pull out my badge here," Pat responded. "There're more glocks in this hallway than in the whole Bayport PD, and I don't need a cap aimed at the Po-Po," he finished, and Joe shook his head and snorted as they waited for the door to open.

All of a sudden, a door opened, and a young, thin man, who looked to be in his early 20s, appeared. He had long, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, and, to Joe's surprise, he didn't look horribly upset to see him. "Horatio?" Joe asked.

"Joe and Frank Hardy?" the man responded.

"That's us," he said, going with it. He had called ahead of time and, to his shock, Horatio had agreed to meet with him when he had told him that he was working with his cousin on a case. "I'm Joe. This is Frank," he said, pointing at Pat, who raised his hand in greeting.

"Come in," Horatio said, and led them into his apartment. "This is my girlfriend, Trina," he said with a small smile, and indicated a young woman with dark hair and eyes, who barely looked up, puffing away on a cigarette.

Both Pat and Joe nodded their heads in greeting.

"So you're working with Roy," he said, matter- of -factly. "What do you want to know?" There was something about him that wasn't settling well with Joe, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He decided to go ahead as planned and think about it later.

"Can you tell me about your relationship with your cousin?" Joe asked, simply. "Maybe a little of his background?"

"I could," Horatio replied with a humorless grin. "But why should I?"

"Because your cousin is in jail now and is going to be tried for murder," Pat replied, "and we're trying to get some information that could help explain his case to a judge."

"You think he's nuts, don't you?" Horatio asked.

"I don't know," Joe replied. "But, if he is, then maybe you could help me prove that and maybe save your cousin's life."

"Hmm," he replied. "What do you wanna know?"

"When did he come to stay with you?" Pat asked. Joe approved inwardly. Pat was sticking to the simple questions and remaining neutral, as planned.

"'Bout 4 years ago," Horatio answered. "His home life was hella bad, and he wanted to see if he could make it in the city. He needed a place. I had one."

"So he was always into the theater?" Joe pressed. Horatio smiled. Something was off; he just couldn't place it.

"Yeah," Horatio replied. "His Shakespeare was on fleek. He worked at some theaters here and in the city. Wanted to be a real life Broadway star. He was good, too. REAL good at acting."

"So he must have been disappointed when he didn't get that role in the _Hamlet_ modernization. The one where John Gellers was supposed to star? I know he tried out for the part. Did that make him mad?"Joe asked.

Horatio let a small laugh escape. "You must think he was hella salty about not getting that role. You right. But he was used to not getting things his way, man. We all was. We all paid our dues- did what we needed to do to get by."

Joe's alert when up. "What do you mean?" he questioned. "He wanted to be a star. What did _you_ want?"

Horatio smiled with deadened eyes. "I wanted to help my cousin. If he made it, we all did. Wanted to get out of this shithole of an apartment, man. So we worked together; got a little side money- a LOT of side money. It ain't dirty, man. You gotta do what you gotta do."

Joe was trying to see what Horatio was implying, and he felt Pat's hand on his arm. "Did you know Jack Johnson or John Gellers?" Pat asked. "Did Roy? Because that's what we need to know. He's made some allegations, and we're here to see what the truth is."

"Allegations?" Trina asked coming to stand near Horatio, having put out her cigarettes. "Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" She smirked at Horatio.

"Yes or no?" Pat asked, and Joe sensed he was trying to control his temper.

"Hell yeah we knew them," Trina said, slowly. "John was FINE," she added, and then, to Joe's shock, she added, "wasn't he, baby?" to Horatio, who licked his lips.

Joe felt his heart start to beat faster. No- something was off. He mentally prepared himself to hear whatever it was that was about to be said, because he knew it was going to be ugly.

"Damn fine," Horatio added with a grin, and bent to kiss Trina.

"HOW did you know them?" Pat asked, more loudly than before, and Joe was grateful that he was there.

"What'd Roy tell ya?" she asked. "Cause, you know, baby," she said to Joe, "things ain't all rainbows and butterflies in the projects. And Roy grew up in project after project. Got to learn to do what he needed to do from real young. He's a survivalist," she added, misusing the term."For a chance of fame and fortune, he did what he needed, like I says."

Joe heard Pat take a deep breath before speaking. "I'm going to be direct here," Pat said. "Answer these questions quickly, please. Where and when did Roy meet Jack or John?"

Horatio smiled again. "He was 16. Got into acting in a little theater. Heard of this big time director- that a real big up and coming star was going to bring back Shakespeare. In the theater one night, Jack and Roy made a little- arrangement. Involved the big star. And the rest, as they say, is history. Nothing he wasn't used to."

"What do you mean by that?" Joe asked through gritted teeth.

"Do I have to spell it out for you, sugar?" Trina asked, and walked to the back of a room, in a filing cabinet. She reached in and produced a DVD, which she handed to Joe. "This is just one. Watch it. I know we were all kids, but that was his-their- thing. And none of us cared. It was h-o-t," she answered. "Guy on guy on girl. Me. Roy. Horatio. John. Jack. They produced a lot of it- we're mostly on video. But believe me. There's more to it than that."

Joe felt like vomiting, felt the sweat break out on his forehead. No- not Johnny. This couldn't be true.

"You're saying that Roy was abused as a child, and went into porn to work his way up and pay the bills until he could become a real actor. I just want to be clear," Pat said, sensing Joe's status. "And you'd suggest that, in a fit of rage over abuse, not in his clear mind, he killed Jack Johnson and blamed John Gellers, who was already dead- to let his truth be known?"

"You said it, baby," Trina answered. "Now help old Roy out. He's got issues in his head. Daddy issues. Mommy issues." She smiled grimly.

"Okay," Pat said calmly. "So many issues that he slept with his own male cousin and his girlfriend in addition to two famous people?"

"It sure as hell wasn't SLEEPING," Horatio said with an uproarious laugh. Trina joined in.

"Thank you," Pat replied, and dragged Joe out of there by the arm, just missing the suddenly serious face and wink that Horatio gave to Trina.

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In the car on the way back to Bayport, Joe hardly spoke a word. Pat remained uncharacteristically silent as well. He drove Joe back to his own apartment, where the two entered in silence.

"What do you think?" Pat asked at last.

"I don't know," Joe replied with a sigh. "It certainly seems to support the theory that he's out of his mind."

"Seems like the whole damned family is out of their minds," Pat grumbled. "That's some sick shit," he added.

Joe rubbed his forehead with his right hand, since his left arm was still immobile. "I DO know one thing," Joe said at last. "I don't know what this DVD is going to show, but I'll be damned if I believe their story about Johnny."

"Shall we see?" Pat asked, quietly. When Joe nodded, he flipped on the TV and powered up the DVD player. Within minutes, a poorly shot video appeared on screen. Sure enough, though the quality was poor, there were Trina, Roy, and Horatio engaged in exactly what they said they'd been doing. In the background, not appearing on screen, to Joe's utter horror, he heard Johnny's voice off screen, clear as day. "Yes, baby. Just like that. Keep going."

Joe got up, flipped the screen off, ran to the bathroom, and vomited.

In the far, far recesses of his mind, he heard Vanessa's voice telling him what she had told Callie; heard her tell him the concerns that his own mother had about Callie and Johnny's enigmatic relationship. If what was on the screen was true- and he didn't know if it was- then who was John Gellers- and what hold did he have over Callie? What the hell had he just stumbled upon?

He cupped water in his hand and swallowed it, throwing more onto his face.

Finally, when he left, he met a deeply concerned Pat in the living room. "You okay?" Pat asked gently.

Joe took a shaky breath. "Not really," he managed.

"You have to call George Atwood," Pat said grimly. "You know that."

"I know," Joe answered softly. "I will."

He picked up the phone, and, without thinking, called the lawyer.

Less than an hour later, a meeting had been scheduled with the judge, Atwood, him, Pat, Frank, and Don Anllow to review evidence that would determine, in part, the next phases of sentencing or trial or placement for Roy Grant. The meeting would take place later than usual, 6:00.

"I'm here for you," Pat said, simply. "What are your thoughts, brother?"

Joe breathed calmly for several minutes. Finally, he looked up, realization dawning on him slowly. He had always been a person of deep integrity and loyalty, and had prided himself on his instinct for trusting the right people. At once, he felt better. He'd present those recordings; he HAD to. It was his JOB, and he had started this investigation and would follow it through.

But he had known Johnny, liked him very much. And even now, through all of this nightmare, he loved Callie dearly, trusted her implicitly. She was his sister. He would have KNOWN if something untoward had been occurring with Johnny, and he had no such feeling. Callie had always been so staunchly in Frank's corner, had loved his brother so deeply, that it was as though they were connected on some level that even he couldn't understand. And John Gellers- he was genuine. This was wrong.

No matter what that video showed, there had to be a logical explanation. There HAD to be. Because he trusted Callie like he trusted himself; he had trusted John with both Callie and his wife; and he trusted Frank with everything he had that Frank would have known if Johnny was insincere.

No- someone was setting John up. But who? And why? And how?

"My thoughts, Pat," Joe said quietly, "are that the shit is about to hit the fan. But I need to try to explain to my brother that I am on his side. That Roy Grant may be crazy, but I know that John Gellers was not a perverted criminal. He needs to believe me. Do you think he will?" Joe asked, voice shaky. He hated feeling like this. No matter how poorly Frank was treating him now, he had faith that there had to be a reason why. He still adored his brother, loved him very much, believed you didn't throw away relationships that meant something, and his relationship with his brother meant _everything_. It was worth the fight, no matter what. And he needed him back on his team, somehow.

"Eventually, I hope," Pat responded at last. "But tonight, my friend, is going to be hell."

Joe simply nodded. He was ready for hell; he was there right now.


	18. Chapter 18

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 18

 **Note and Warning** : *** _Here we go_! _This is a pivotal chapter in the story, essential to understanding the rift between Frank and Joe. I knew where it was going before I even wrote the story, and that in itself was a major decision. For anyone who ever posted that Frank was acting almost out of character and with poor judgement regarding the Grant case, this chapter reveals why he wasn't thinking clearly. And for anyone who thought that Callie was to blame as well, or even moreso, I would hope you might just reconsider. This chapter shows that we never really know a person until we walk in his or her shoes, to allude to the great novel by Harper Lee, and that sometimes the things we do wrong can be forgiven when there is a real reason that we act out of character. Rumor and innuendo are terrible things, especially when they're so very far from the truth, which happens all too often in the real world. And if you re-read any of the chapters to this point, I think you may just see them now in a very different light._

 _I lost count of how many times I edited it (60? more?) to get it just right and I really hope I did it justice. I made a stylistic choice not to have dialog here to slow down the pacing. It's one of my favorite chapters ever because it was so hard to write, and I've been nervous about posting it since I wrote the story. I tried to handle a horrible situation delicately and show the effects rather than the cause, to offer hope rather than despondency. It is intense and raw, and though nothing is described too graphically (I took care not to do so), it explores a very violent crime.*** If you don't want to read it, PM me and I'll tell you the gist of it.***_

 _Thank you to everyone who has left reviews since the last chapter, which have been so_ _appreciated: LaurieQ, Red Hardy, SnowPrincess88, ulstergirl, hbndgirl, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, Guest, max 2013, hlahabibty, Paulina Ann, and Caranath._

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Callie stared out the car window, trying to control her thoughts; her breathing. She had arrived at Bayport Cemetery, having been driven there by one of the police officers assigned to their case. JJ was at her house, being watched by her parents. She had explained that she'd needed this afternoon by herself to collect her thoughts, and they, as always, understood.

Slowly, she opened the door, got out, and made her way through the chilly air, pulling her jacket close around her. Normally, she would have come here to visit Iola, as she did at least once a month. But not today. The utter debacle, the release of the video, the headlines, the buzz feed-and not a shred of it was true. Her heart ached, yet she was numb. She had to see him.

This morning had been horrific. The salacious headlines and innuendos had been more than enough to tear her heart in half, if they had ended there. The press had somehow gotten hold of the story and it was front page news; her nightmare had come true. But what had killed her, had literally taken her breath away, was the utter despair and deep sorrow in Joe's eyes once he had seen the utter rage and complete disgust in Frank's eyes yesterday at the courthouse, where she had insisted on waiting, along with the Hardys and Vanessa.

It had been hell being there. On the way out of the courthouse, Frank had been visibly shaking. Frank later told her that he had been so completely floored by the "evidence" brought forth by Joe, so stunned and disgusted, that he'd almost gotten sick; had refused to speak to Joe, who had desperately tried to see him. And then, as they had left, she had seen something she had never, ever seen in Frank's eyes before, a look of what could have been _hatred_ directed towards his brother. Unbelievably, it almost looked as if he was going to go after Joe physically, literally fight him, so filled with fury that he wasn't himself.

And then she knew, as clear as day. He _wasn't_ himself. How had she not known, not realized until this very moment? The epiphany had sucked the breath from her. _This wasn't even about Joe at all._

As Frank's eyes had met hers, she had seen the guilt, the despondency that he had let her down. She saw his embarrassment, heartache, sense of complete failure. And she realized, with a clarity that had eluded her before this moment, that _this wasn't Joe's fault after all._ No. It was no one's fault, but it was _her_ issue; _Frank's_ issue. Because Joe simply didn't know.

She reached Johnny's grave and looked at the remains of flowers, balloons, and trinkets that fans had left. But her eyes went to the beautiful picture of Johnny- vibrant, gorgeous, and always smiling- that she and Frank had enclosed on the headstone. Slowly, she moved aside everything and reached out to touch it, gathering strength from its presence. Sitting down on the grass on his grave, she rested her head against the cold, lifeless stone, still unable to imagine that her Johnny was there.

She managed the smallest of smiles. _No. Johnny wasn't there. He was flying with the angels, making heaven just a little bit brighter._

"Oh, John," she managed, softly. "I'm so sorry, honey. I'll fix this, I promise. And you need to know that no matter what happens, I will make sure that your name is cleared. And forgive Joe," she went on, eyes burning with tears. "And give strength to Frank. Because they will need each other to help you."

She lifted her head slowly and leaned back against the stone. She closed her eyes.

 _Eight Years Earlier_

 _December 3. 6:45 p.m. That's when IT had started. When IT had ended, she really had no idea. The physical pain had been excruciating. But she refused to dwell on that. Only four people knew about every physical detail that had occurred, and only four people ever would. She knew as sure as she knew her own name that fact would remain true for the rest of her life. Once the words were said, they became real, and she would not go back there. It had taken too much to climb out._

 _At the emergency room, the doctor, who looked at her with a mixture of sympathy and resignation as she endured test after test, stitch after stitch, a human specimen kit. Her therapist, who offered her compassion and understanding. Johnny, who had been horrified and became ill, but never left her side. He'd never, ever left. Above all, Frank. She told him once, in detail, because he had a right to know ALL of her, good and bad. To this day, his reaction remained seared in her mind: the shock, the horror, the sounds of him vomiting in the bathroom, and the unhinged violence. He had actually punched a hole through a wall before he had broken down in tears, before he had held her so tightly to him that she didn't think he would ever let go. By then, it was so far buried that she had recounted it factually; stoically. But he had been shaking, completely traumatized. It was the one time ever that he had come completely undone, open and raw and vulnerable. It was as if the ropes that had tied her wrists back had burned_ _him,_ _as if all the blood that she had shed had come from_ _his __wounds. In that moment, she had witnessed love so strong it almost hurt, knew their souls would forever remain intertwined._

 _IT had happened when she was only 19 years old, away at school across the country in California. The time had been awful before that. She and Frank had separated and he had broken her heart. Having been with him for four years, she had no idea how to handle herself around other men, many of whom eyed her ravenously. She was lonely, scared. Then, one day, when some guy had grabbed her behind a gym, she was saved by a gorgeous, kind man named Jonathan Gellers. They had hit it off right away. She enjoyed his company: he was smart, fun, and charismatic. And, to her absolute shock, he never hit on her… though a small part of her wanted him to, to distract her from the great lost love of her life._

 _Ultimately, one night over a few drinks in her room, she had seen a different side to him. He'd confessed to her that he was struggling with his sexuality, that, although he had been with several women, he found himself, more and more, attracted to men. He didn't know if he was gay, bisexual, or just straight and confused. And he'd cried._

 _She hadn't known what to do. She hadn't ever known anyone who had these issues. Bayport was as conservative and white and straight as places came, and college- and California- was most certainly not. She was out of her element. He told her that he had shared with his parents his concerns, and, to his utter astonishment, they had been completely supportive. But he dared not share his issues with anyone else. He'd always been very private, afraid to show his vulnerable sides. So he'd challenged his masculinity by becoming a star football player, though he couldn't quite lose the lure of the theater. He put on masks to the world in these different stages, fighting to know who he was; what convictions he stood for. He was a person lost in two worlds, and he felt as if he didn't quite belong in either one._

 _He'd decided to find out more about the community, and she had wanted to support him. So they had joined the Gay-Straight Alliance on campus and the LGBT support group, and, slowly, she saw him begin to change, become more confident. He had started to identify as who he really was, what he'd always really known-that he was gay, though he never told her about any relationships he had unless they were just starting to get serious. He was that private, even with her. Pretty soon, he was, if not publicly "out," out among the people who knew him. And they loved him; accepted him- from the football players to the theater kids, they accepted him. Because he was that special of a person._

 _THAT night, he couldn't make the meeting, because he had football practice. So he had encouraged her to go alone, and she had. It was a particularly inspiring meeting, and she had felt lighter and happier, herself, knowing she wasn't the only one struggling with finding out who she was, though her issue was not of sexual identity; it was simply identity. Who was she when she had to be alone and stand up for herself? What was her worth, when the man whom she had loved had betrayed her? Who was she, simply, when she didn't have Frank? And she was just starting to find out…_

 _When IT happened. On the way home from the meeting. In the most agonizing, excruciating, terrifying hours of her life. Even the emergency room doctor had told her IT had been particularly brutal._

 _When she woke up, in the dark, she could barely walk; the pain was unbearable. Her body was on fire; she was bleeding and disoriented, barely able to loosen the ropes and get free. The confusion, shame, and complete shock overwhelmed her, and she wanted to die; that was the only thing she knew for sure._

She stopped now, trying to breathe, nails digging into her palm, even all these years later. She would-could- go no further, now or ever.

 _That is the furthest extent she would allow herself to think of it. She hadn't known what to do, so she had, shaking so badly she could barely hold the phone, called her only friend and asked if he could help her. She said nothing else. She waited. And he came, less than 30 minutes later, having left practice early, having asked no questions._

 _Nothing else really mattered about that day; those hours. In fact, the reality was so horrifying that she had consciously and mercifully blocked it out now. It was what happened in the year after that, before she was reunited with Frank, that forged her unbreakable bond with Johnny. He had come to her and, when he saw what had happened, started sobbing, completely un-nerved, and carried her, nearly unconscious, to his car. He had taken her to the emergency room, to the hospital where she had remained for over two weeks, and he had never left her side through it all. It was strange how she had separated from herself, how she managed to block IT out, yet could remember every detail of what he had been wearing, could still feel his hand holding hers, soft, yet strong, capable. Not once had he let go._

 _She saw the abject guilt in his eyes; he blamed himself for not being there to protect her, for having been the reason she was there in the first place. He forced her to go to counseling, driving her every time, waiting outside every appointment. He never left her side; he gave up football, the meager scholarship he had been given, to take care of her._

 _He was a year ahead of her in college, and he'd taken the spring semester off- for her. He insisted that she stay with him in the little, rinky- dink apartment that he could barely afford, where, at his insistence, she slept on the bed and he slept on the futon, except for the few nights when she was so terrified, her heart pounding so hard that she thought it might burst through her chest. On those nights, he just stayed up all night with her, holding her, kissing her head and cheeks softly, drying her tears, comforting her in any way he could, as she fought not to succumb to the demons as she clung to her angel. He hadn't wanted her to be alone and scared, and sometimes she would just fall asleep in his arms, where she knew no harm could come to her. He'd accompanied her to all of her classes, putting his own education on hold. She had told no one else about IT- for so many reasons- and he never mentioned IT out loud, or made her speak the word and hence make it real again. She had Johnny. For now, he was enough: her lifeline, her safety net._

 _As a result of IT, she'd experienced severe panic attacks, nightmares, and impaired thinking, had been diagnosed as having PTSD. She literally could not think straight. She vacillated between almost collapsing and sobbing in his arms to lashing out at him, yelling or throwing things. Some days, she wanted no physical contact at all with him or anyone. It was the darkest time of her life, but he had been there to offer her the tiniest beacon of light._

 _The worst day next to THAT, though, the one that had changed them forever, was when she was having a particularly bad day with self-esteem, thought she was worth nothing… had needed to thank Johnny for everything and had no idea how. So, in a fog of confusion, she had crawled up on the futon next to him, and, before she knew what she was doing, had wrapped her arms around him and started kissing him passionately. At first- she could still remember it like it was yesterday- he'd returned the kisses with equal passion, allowed himself just a few moments to hold her, touch her, his desire evident. There had been SOMETHING there, after all, always a mutual attraction and deep connection and love. After a few minutes, though, he'd stopped her, breathless, and gently pulled her off him, but she wouldn't stop; couldn't stop. She_ _needed_ _this. She_ _needed_ _to show him that she loved him. That's how skewed her perception had been._

 _But then he really had to separate her from him, gently but with conviction, and she'd started hitting him, instinctively, so scared. He'd blocked her effortlessly, and then held her arms back easily-he was so much stronger and taller than she was- then he'd just held her, period. And when she was finally calm, so defeated and confused and ashamed and nauseated, he'd looked her in the eyes, cupped her face with his hands, kissed her lips softly, and told her, "I love you too much to do this. Stop." She couldn't speak, but couldn't move, either. He had always said what he meant and meant what he said._

' _Callie," he'd said her name so softly, so tenderly, as he looked piercingly into her eyes, "You are worth so much more than this, sweetheart. You don't give yourself to anyone ever again unless that person is worthy of you, and the time is right, and you're in love, and you want to make love, not make up for something you_ _think_ _you don't deserve. You are NOT your circumstance. You are a victim of brutality, violence… evil. But THAT (even now she couldn't think it) is NOT sex. It is not intimacy. Don't you EVER confuse the two." His eyes had shone with tears. "You are my best friend, and I will not let you self-destruct. It's time for you to be a survivor, not a victim."_

 _And she knew she had hurt him inadvertently by those kisses, because she had been the one person who never wanted a thing from him other than friendship. He knew what it was like to be used and desired only because of physical appearance, only because of the shallow exterior that, for so many people, define who they are. But he had let it go, because he knew, on some level, that it hadn't been about physicality at all._

 _For six months after that day, he'd given her tough love that was exactly what she had needed, though she had hated it at the time. He'd forced her to walk to classes by herself, even though she was scared to death to do so. But he had followed her at a distance to make sure that she was okay. He had dragged her into social situations, forcing her to talk to other people, men, and somehow she had gotten through. He'd made her confront her fears, that which would always trigger her, rather than running from them or denying their existence. She saw how he took on the burden of her pain so that she didn't have to as she heard him cry as she struggled, heard him pray for her when when he didn't think she was watching. He showed her how to trust again, restored her faith in the fundamental goodness of most people. Slowly, ever so slowly, with his help, she had risen above her circumstances, learned not only how to survive, but also how to thrive. He had helped her find herself again; in some odd way, stronger than before._

 _She had even started to have fun again, to realize that life had a purpose. And one of those purposes was for her to pursue, if she could, what had made her happiest in the world. It had been then, as it continued to be, Frank. It had worked out, thank God. Johnny had always encouraged her to go for it, and she had done so, knowing that he would soften her fall if she crashed. That, in itself, was another ordeal to overcome. Johnny hadn't trusted Frank at all at the start of their reunion, ever protective of her, and angry at the man who had hurt her once. And Frank hadn't trusted Johnny whatsoever, not understanding how she could love another man as she did. But they both loved and trusted her, and ultimately that's all that mattered. The fact that they had, in time, become very close friends was simply an added blessing, a bond that went beyond the unmentionable horror; a true respect and genuine friendship between the two people who had mattered most in her life. In that aspect, at least, she was the most fortunate woman on earth._

 _When she and Frank had reunited, their love and spark was still there, stronger than ever, now a raging fire. Coming back to him was like coming home, finding that final puzzle piece that had completed her, making her whole again. She knew he felt the same, and his arms still remained today protection from life's storms. By that time, she had no lingering physical or sexual side effects from IT, unlike so many others, and for that she was immensely grateful. But it had taken a long, long time to get to that point, to fight the fear and pain and flashbacks and terror that came with any thoughts of intimacy. But he had been so patient with her, so incredibly understanding and tender, so protective of her heart, body, and soul. With Frank, no matter how playful, spontaneous, intense, or passionate their intimate relationship was, he always made her feel safe, and every word, every touch, every time, was an expression of the deepest love that transcended the physical and connected their souls in their union._

 _But it had taken a year and a half of fighting, clawing her way back from hell, and rising from the ashes to get there. She had told him right away_ _-everything-_ _from what actually happened in graphic detail, to what she had gone through, to Johnny's role, all of it, and had left nothing out. And then finally Frank understood their bond, was able to let jealousy and insecurity go, and ultimately embrace Johnny, because he loved her so very much. He saw how her best friend had saved her life, given her strength she didn't know she had, and returned her to him safely, wiser and stronger than before._

 _In turn, she'd shown Frank that she loved him, alone, that he was her soulmate and lover, and her true best friend in so many ways. But if he was all that, and he was, then Johnny was the wind behind her sails, her angel and savior, twice. TWICE. And God, did she miss him._

 _Even when she and Vanessa and Johnny had been kidnapped, he protected her. Yes, he defended Vanessa with everything he had; of course he would- it came second nature to him. Still, Vanessa had missed what she hadn't been looking for, but which Callie knew all too well: how Johnny always placed himself in front of her when there was a threat, and would hold her tightly, pretending to keep her warm, but really quelling her terrified shaking. He understood when she flinched and became numb; knew that the several times she'd almost collapsed went way beyond her physical injuries. It didn't matter that Cotnig and his cronies never threatened them in THAT way, but the several men, the feeling of being trapped, the knife and ropes in the background, brought back such base terror that she had simply shut down, quiet and withdrawn. Vanessa had thought she was brave, but Johnny had known she was trying to survive, that every breath was a way to fight from going back there. So, he never lost physical contact with her, and when she was hurt- Callie saw the rage in his eyes that could only have been surpassed by Frank. He'd reminded her that she was strong, so she had become strong. He never mentioned IT, but he didn't need to; it underscored everything. And, when Vanessa would sleep at last, under his watchful eye, she would curl into his arms and he would rock her gently as he had so many years before, tell her she was okay and that he'd protect her. He'd promised to- and he had, with his life. That was her sweet, brave, selfless angel Johnny, who'd delivered her wholly back to her husband, and now to her baby. She owed him her life, and fiercely, passionately loved him and wanted to defend him._

And hence this horrible present reality which now, finally, made sense.

She knew now that Joe was not to blame for any of this. Someone very bad had made horrific accusations and they would have come out, whether or not Joe had personally pursued the matter. He should not have done so, and that would still take a long time to heal, but she had faith that it could be done.

Because if Joe would have known about IT, then she knew without doubt that he would never have pursued this case. And it wasn't fair that she and Frank, especially, wracked with their own guilt, had made this case a personal mission of protection at all costs. She knew Johnny's soul like Frank and Joe knew each other's; like she knew Frank's. Johnny was light and love and kindness and heroism; he was the antithesis of evil and darkness. But Joe couldn't know that; not really. He would never understand her devotion to Johnny, nor could anyone else. Except Frank. And she knew that; it had always been okay. Except now it wasn't, because who on earth could have foreseen this case? No, it wasn't just about saving Johnny's reputation from the press, as they had subconsciously made it appear; it was about how he had saved her life and made her whole again, how he had raised her up to have the confidence to reunite with her great love, how he had seen her through utter depravity and ruin. That's what Johnny meant to her, and, hence to Frank.

And she knew no one would ever understand that, nor did she want them to. IT was in the past. But Joe was in the present. And it wasn't fair to place all that weight and what they knew about Johnny upon Joe, use it as a weapon to cut him down with the very sword that he had wielded.

She would never tell him or anyone else about IT, a choice she had made long ago to save her sanity. She knew her secret was safe with Frank; he was an unbreakable vault. But she understood now the weight that her decision had inadvertently placed upon Frank. He couldn't win with Joe, because to explain why he so trusted in Johnny's innocence would be to reveal her secret, and she knew he would never do that. It was wearing Frank down, caught between the brother he loved and the woman he loved, an impossible situation. That, she could not fix; she would fall apart if she had to reveal it, to relive and remember what had literally almost killed her. She'd grown strong in the many years since then, learned to move on and enjoy life and love with all her heart. Yet even today, there were days, moments, items, people, situations, words... things that reminded her that IT would always be with her, that took her back there and still made her fight. Frank fought with her, and though it was her fault they fought alone, because of that choice for privacy and silence, he never blamed her. And they had each other.

Still, she had to talk to Frank about turning this around now. She would not let her story destroy her husband any more, her rock who ached for her more than she would ever ache for herself. She had a beautiful life now, thanks to Johnny; thanks to Frank. And, to a much lesser extent, thanks to Joe, whom she had also grown to love so much.

She needed to get Frank to see that their issues were not Joe's, and to reunite the brothers. Frank's constant guilt about their breakup and IT drove him every day to be a better person, and she loved him deeply for it. She knew that Frank hated the fact that they- if they deserved a human pronoun- had never been caught. The detective's wife was a victim in a crime that remained unsolved and probably always would. And that ate Frank alive; she knew that. She also knew that he would have killed them if he ever found them, and she would not bear that burden. He would not pursue the case, simply because it would have been unbearable for her to go back there, and he would not ask that of her. He would not ask for Joe's help, either, because then he would have revealed her secret. And he would never utter the words that her failure to want him to find them might have caused someone else to have been hurt, because that would have been a guilt she did not need to bear. So he lived with the rage so she didn't have to.

Along with the unsolved nature of the crime, she knew that Frank felt personally responsible for what had happened to her, against all logic and reason, feeling as though, if they had never been separated in the first place, she never would have been attacked; probably would have been on the phone with him or in his arms that night. It was the total opposite of rational thought, but it had never been rational with him when it came to her, and she knew it would tear at his own soul forever.

Johnny and Frank, the two loves of her life in very different ways, lived with that crushing blanket of guilt every day. It had always pained her deeply that she couldn't remove it, since she loved them both so very much, but she had little power over a self-inflicted life sentence they had both given themselves. All she could do was to assure them that there was nothing for which to take the blame, and the best way to do THAT was to bury it in the past. They both deserved that. _No_. They ALL deserved that.

Now, today, for Frank to be fair, he needed to talk to Joe, to let him know that it wasn't solely his fault for taking the case and doing what he believed to be the right thing; he needed to ask for Joe's forgiveness. She knew Joe would have begged for theirs if he had known, would have defended Johnny blindly and avoided pursuing it at all costs, or worked with Frank in a much different way, because Joe was _her_ brother, too, and the knowledge of IT would have hurt him as badly as it did Johnny, and almost as much as it crushed Frank. Her deep love for the man who had saved her, and Frank's loyalty and inexpressible gratitude for him, and the secret they shared, had created an impregnable fortress which Joe never had a chance of cracking. This guilt all around had to stop. They needed each other. And she was scared. What would happen to her family if they didn't get past this?

"Oh, Johnny. They're still out there," she said softly as she opened her eyes, not quite knowing if she was referring to her- attackers- or Alan Cotnig, or both parties. "But you taught me that we are not what happens to us- we are defined by how our character is revealed as we deal with the consequences. I love you, Johnny. And I'll make sure that my son knows all about his namesake."

She stood up, a heavy burden lifted from her shoulders. She had needed this time, the 'talk' with Johnny her own catharsis.

She smiled sadly and wiped away her tears. She needed to get home to her baby and to her husband, to start to set things right. She could fix this with Joe and Frank, no matter how hard and painful it would be.

After all, she had been through much deeper pain; she was a survivor… and survivors didn't give up quite so easily.


	19. Chapter 19

**Note:** _I wanted sincerely to thank all of you who took the time to review since the last chapter. I was REALLY nervous to publish it, but it was time to reveal the secret, and I appreciate your support. That's the most that IT will be mentioned with any specifics, although certainly it will be alluded to- after all, Joe doesn't know. I hope you can all see WHY Frank and Callie didn't say anything. More will be explained in this chapter. You are the most encouraging and nicest group of people; you really make me want to improve and to keep writing. THANK YOU to: BMSH, BeeBee18, SnowPrincess88, Red Hardy, Paulina Ann, Erin Jordan, hbndgirl, ulstergirl, max 2013, Hero 76, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, Moon in Scorpio, and Guest. Every one of your reviews made my day. *The next chapter swings right back to the mysteries as well.*_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 19

Joe sat in the kitchen of his house and wiped back tears with the one hand that could still function correctly, since his left arm remained pretty much immobile. Yesterday had been a pure, unmitigated disaster. When George Atwood, the lawyer, had made the case for Grant's mental incompetency, he had presented as evidence those videos which seemed to implicate Johnny and Jack Johnson as perpetrators of abuse.

He didn't believe it for a second, though the tapes were, in fact, graphic. How they had gotten there and what role Grant had uplayed in that, other than the obvious, was something he still had to explore. It had killed him to present what he had found. But the evidence, circumstantial though it was, at times was compelling. Grant had been shuffled from foster home to foster home after his mother's death; his father remained a mystery and had never been part of his life. Grant's education was disrupted and he had become a self- made actor. But had he been abused in the past? Atwood suggested so. Was he being abused before his killing of Johnson? Maybe so-at least coerced. Was he crazy? THAT was the question, "the rub,"* as Grant would note. Something WAS rotten in the state of Denmark*- or New York, as it were.

He had done his due diligence and presented the evidence to Atwood, who had done his own due diligence. To that end, when they had gone before the judge, he and Atwood on one side and Frank and Anllow on the other, the evidence was presented, and the judge had formally ordered Grant to be evaluated by a court appointed psychiatrist before the case went to trial.

The look on Frank's face when the videos had played in part; when Johnny's background and Johnson's background had been brought up; when it was suggested that Grant was a victim rather than a man in control of his own mind; he would never forget it. Frank had been so angry, so hurt, so outraged- that he swore Frank hated him, literally. He felt his heart break again at the thought. What had he started? Nothing- nothing, he now realized- was worth what this case had cost him. And when he had left the courthouse, he'd met Callie's eyes, and she had turned away. Vanessa had run to him for support. His parents had remained relatively neutral, Fenton going with Frank and Callie and Anllow back to his office, and Laura returning with him and Vanessa to Atwood's office. But even that hurt, as he saw how the divide was affecting his parents.

And the press had been relentless. The story had already leaked about the videos-how, he didn't know. What he did know was that, by the time he'd arrived home, the story was Twitter's #1 trend, was the top Google search story. His dear friend was suffering so quickly, probably because of him, even posthumously, and he simply couldn't go out and beat up anonymous people on the internet. He literally felt sick. "I'm sorry, Johnny," he whispered. "Forgive me."

The bell rang and Joe looked up. Vanessa was resting upstairs, emotionally drained. When there were police cruisers in front of your house, one didn't simply walk up to the porch to sell Girl Scout cookies. He opened the door, and saw Laura standing there, a casserole dish in her hand.

"Hi, Mama," he said to her, taking the dish in his one good arm. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you know," she answered, entering the house and kissing Joe on the cheek, "I was just in the neighborhood with a hot lunch and had nowhere to go, and I found myself here." She gave him a smile and followed him into the kitchen, where she placed it down on the table. She touched his cheek. "How are you feeling, honey?"

"Great," Joe replied as he pulled the chair out for his mother and then sat next to her. "Nothing like ruining a friend's reputation internationally, destroying your family, and hunting down a serial killer to boot to make a guy feel amazing." He sighed.

Laura reached for his hand. "Where's Vanessa?" she queried. "Lunch is still warm, so we can eat in a few minutes."

"She's resting; this has been hard on her," he admitted. "And I ate already."

Laura smiled and raised her brows. "Are you declining food? This is worse than I thought," she joked.

Joe smiled and chuckled lightly. "Nah, Mom. I DID eat, but I'm always up for food. Thanks. What'd you bring?"

"Chicken and cheese casserole, some salad for later, and homemade chocolate cake," she responded, eager to spend time with Joe.

"What'd you bring for Vanessa, then?" he teased, a slight sparkle back in his eyes, and Laura laughed.

"Honey," she said, as she sat back, "I just wanted to stop by and tell you that I love you. I'm so sorry for this- mess-" she said sadly. "I'm still praying that we can have Thanksgiving, the proper way. I- I can't believe we're not getting together tomorrow," she said, emotional. "I'll miss my grandson's first Thanksgiving." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Things had been so bad between her sons that they hadn't bothered to make plans for tomorrow. She had no idea what they were all doing, and her heart was breaking.

Joe felt terrible. "I know, Mama. I'm sorry. More than you know."

"Would you and Vanessa like to come over? And Andrea? I'm going to ask Frank and Callie, of course… but… I think they'll say no." She took a deep breath. "It won't be anything fancy, but…"

Joe got up and went to Laura, hugging her as best he could. He kissed her cheek, eyes bright with tears. "Yeah. Sure- sure we'll come. I'll ask Andrea, too. We'll make it work. And I'll do you a huge favor and have me and Vanessa do no cooking at all, so the meal may turn out okay."

Laura smiled into Joe's shoulder, still holding onto him. "I can't even rely on you to mash the potatoes this year," she responded shakily. "What can you do?

"I can eat," Joe replied, finally. "And I can be with you." His voice broke.

"That's enough," she answered, rubbing her baby's back. "That'll be just fine."

And it would be. It was _more_ than enough.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As soon as Callie returned to the house with the officer, she got out of the patrol car and walked to the front entrance. She could see Frank through the window into the dining room, head buried in his hands as his arms rested on the table, and her heart skipped a beat. Her poor husband. He'd been through so much, had acted completely out of character, had broken the bond with Joe, his best friend, because, she now knew, both she and Frank had been motivated by far deeper issues than anyone knew.

She paused for another moment, grateful that she had had the chance to go to the cemetery. It was as if Johnny was sending her some sign from above, some clarity, telling her what to do. She heard her parents laughing, and knew they were outside, presumably with JJ, enjoying the slightly milder day. Good. She would have some time alone with Frank, and she would need it.

For just a moment, as she looked at Frank, she flashed back to the one moment when she had told him about IT, that awful moment so many years ago, when he had come apart at the seams, his love for her so powerful that they were forever united in so many ways. He'd held her that day and kept repeating "you're safe, you're safe"- it had become their mantra to this day. When things seemed out of control in her life, when she was hurting or overwhelmed or confused, he would always take her in his arms and say that one simple phrase, and it always, always worked. Because it was true: when Frank was touching her, or holding her, or physically by her, every single time, every day, she had been and continued to be- safe. And now she needed to provide that safe haven for him.

She entered through the front door and walked to him, placing her hands on his shoulders from behind and gently rubbing them. She tried not to see the papers spread across the table with Johnny's picture on them, the awful lies dominating the headlines. Frank had seen them, obviously, and she knew it was pushing him further and further to the edge.

"Hey," she said softly, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

Frank sat up, leaned back against her, and placed his hands over hers for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he stood up, reached for her, and held her close, kissing her forehead, nose, and eyes so tenderly it made her heart ache. "Hi, baby," he said softly.

"JJ outside?" she asked, cuddling close, needing his arms around her, if only for a minute.

"Mmmm hmmm," Frank murmured, running his fingers through her hair. "Your mom thought it would be good for him to get fresh air."

"Fresh air IS good," she answered, momentarily content.

"How was… your visit?" he asked her.

Slowly, almost painfully, she pulled away from his arms and looked into his eyes, trying to hide her shock when she saw the pain there; the guilt. They had to have this talk, and it was now or never.

"Sit down," she said to him as she touched his cheek gently. "We need to talk."

Frank was concerned immediately. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied with a small smile. "Please." She motioned to the chair.

Hesitantly, Frank sat down, and Callie pulled a chair next to him, and reached for his hand. "Honey," she said, slowly, "I've been thinking- a lot. I needed today to visit with Johnny; to clear my head with all that fresh air." She rubbed his hand. "And I need to have this talk with you, sweetheart. I can't watch you like this anymore."

Frank felt his face flush as he held onto Callie's hand. "Baby, I'm so sorry," he managed, voice tight. "I promised you that I would do my best to prevent THIS-" he motioned to the papers strewn about- "from happening. I let you down. God, Callie. I'm so embarrassed. I feel so guilty. I'll never forgive Joe for doing this to you."

"Honey, _stop_ about Joe. You're not thinking clearly. Now. You did NOT let me down," Callie emphasized, squeezing his hand. "This is not your fault, and I would never, ever blame you. But Frank- baby, I just realized something today, something that I should have known all along, but I didn't, because I was so hurt and guilty and ashamed that I had let Johnny down. Frank, this wasn't Joe's fault, either."

Frank felt his mouth drop open, the color drain from his face. He stood up. "What?! Of COURSE this was Joe's fault, Callie. He started the whole thing. I begged him not to. You begged him not to. If he had left it alone, Johnny would be okay."

Callie stood as well, fighting tears. She had to be strong for him. "It's not his fault," she said quietly. "This is _my_ fault. This is _your_ fault."

"What are you talking about?" he asked her, stomach in knots. He was completely confused.

She met his eyes. "Honey, I agree with you on one point only- Joe should have never pushed the issue. He should have let it drop and let the courts decide what they would. But I think he knows that. He told you so- he apologized. You know Joe- he leads with his heart; he tries to do the right thing. But for your sake- for mine- he shouldn't have done that. True. That's a forgivable mistake, Frank. He learned from it."

"No!" Frank exclaimed. "No, Callie. It's not. He betrayed me. He betrayed you."

"No, he didn't," Callie said quietly. "He made a decision and he stuck to his principles. Baby, that's admirable. And you know you'd be praising him and so proud of him for doing that if it didn't involve John. You don't mean what you're saying. I know you don't."

Frank felt his heart start to pound, anger coursing through his veins. "Look at what my brother did to Johnny!" he almost shouted. He picked up the papers, waving them at her. "He ruined him."

"No, Frank," Callie replied, tears slowly starting to escape as she took in a shaky breath. "Joe did nothing to Johnny. It was never about Johnny. WE made it about Johnny. Johnny is DEAD." She started trembling a bit, and saw how Frank immediately changed, went to reach for her, but she backed away. "I'm okay," she said, emotional. "We need to get this out."

"Why are you saying all this?" Frank asked, much more softly than before, his dark eyes melting with concern. "Don't be upset, honey. Let me hold you."

"No," she replied shakily. "Frank, THAT's the problem."

"What is?" he asked. Callie was making no sense, but he literally could not stand to see her in pain and not do something about it.

"Frank, you always protect me. You always take care of me. You always help me escape from reality when reality gets to be too much."

"That's my job, baby," he said to her. "I love you."

"And I love you- _so, so_ much. More than you'll ever know. But we are our own worst enemies this time. This case was so painful that we escaped into each other and we didn't deal with facts." She touched his arm. " _Facts,_ Frank. What you live and die for. You ignored them because of me. You didn't mean to, but you did. I didn't even realize it was happening until an hour ago." She wiped back tears with her free hand. " Fact- Joe made a mistake taking the case, but he didn't understand why he shouldn't have because we didn't explain it to him. Fact- it had nothing to do with loyalty in his eyes. We love Joe because he IS like this; he fights the good fight. Fact- there is a person on trial who may well be mentally incompetent- neither you nor your brother can make that determination, but Joe wanted to give the guy a fair chance. Fact\- and this is the most painful of all- Joe took the case to protect the guy from himself, honey. Johnny's reputation was a side effect. Joe was and is _always_ on Johnny's side. On OUR side."

"No," Frank repeated. "That's not true." He didn't move.

She saw it. "Honey, I know you so well. You're not even listening to me right now. All you can think about it how to comfort me, how to get me to stop hurting. But I'm telling you how- pay attention to the _facts_. I will hurt for all my life when you're in pain- and you are hurting so badly right now because of what happened with Joe, despite your facade. You can't pretend with me. We are way, _way_ beyond pretense with each other. You need to think about what I said. This was NOT JOE'S FAULT."

"Joe destroyed Johnny's reputation!" Frank insisted. Callie's heart broke. Frank was so deep in denial right now, because if he admitted the truth it might break him. But he had to face reality.

"Johnny's reputation will be just fine," she countered, still trying to control her emotions. It hurt her deeply to see Frank's denial, because he still didn't get it and he looked completely stricken and confused. He'd built a case against his brother and sealed it shut, but she knew he had done so as a defense mechanism; that he really didn't understand why he'd done it. Neither had she- not until today. "This is the story of the week. Maybe month. Hell- maybe the story of the year," she went on, gesticulating with her hands. "Does it kill me? Yes. Because if ever someone deserved better, it is him. I know it's not true like I know my own soul. But I have confidence that his name will be cleared, and you -along with Joe- TOGETHER- are the only ones who can start that process. Do that for me."

Frank swallowed hard. "I cannot work with Joe again," he answered her, voice trembling. He hated this. She was thinking more clearly and faster than him- he couldn't even process fully what she was saying.

"You can't- or you _won't_?" she asked him directly. It cut at her heart to see how off center Frank was, how she was throwing him by using his own strength of logic and reason against him. It was time. She took a deep breath. This was it. "I loved Johnny so much, Frank. He was the only other man in my life who fully protected me. And only _you. know. why._ " She emphasized each word, punctuating each with a movement of her index finger, and stared at him directly.

Frank audibly gasped. No. No. He would _not_ talk about this. His head started to pound again. It had been years. YEARS. They'd promised never to speak of it again, focusing on the future, not the past.

"Honey, don't you see?" she asked him, gently. It ripped at her soul to see the deepest pain in his eyes as she took him back there. "This was never about Johnny's reputation with the press. We can fix that, but even if we couldn't, really- we tried. This would have come out anyway, obviously- someone is trying to set him up. God, it was such an obvious thing we overlooked. IT WOULD HAVE COME OUT ANYWAY," she repeated, trembling. "Joe had nothing to do with that. I love Joe, Frank. You love him. He didn't deserve any of this. In the end, we are remembered after we're gone by the people in our lives who REALLY know us. If people want to remember false allegations against some celebrity, they will, and they'll go on with their lives. But we will remember everything- Johnny's reputation is safe with us and with our family and friends. Our precious baby is named for one of the most honorable people I have ever known. Actually, sweetheart- he's named for TWO of the most honorable people I - we- have ever known. We were so wrong to do this to Joe. And it doesn't matter that we didn't mean it and that we sincerely didn't know we were doing it."

"Frank," she continued at last, tears falling from her eyes, "we attacked Joe- were completely unreasonable- not because of what we said about Johnny's reputation-even though I sincerely believe that is what we _thought_ we were doing- but because of what happened to _me_. Because of THAT, baby. And Joe will _never_ know about it, so imagine how hurt he must be. His brother betrayed HIM, over something that he knows nothing about. Frank, you need to fix this."

And when she looked up into his eyes, she saw that he was sobbing, and it was only one of a handful of times in her entire life that she had seen him even shed sorrowful tears. She knew at last that she had broken through to him, and her heart ached watching him start to crumble. She ran to him and wrapped him in her arms tightly, could feel him trembling as he was taken back to that horrific day in the past with her, taken to the chilly present with Joe. She knew he was consumed by guilt for both circumstances, feeling as if he had let down the two people, other than his son, whom he loved more than anything, and she clung to him as she felt him pull her impossibly close as he buried his face in her neck. She knew he was lost, broken, and she had to help him find himself, whatever it took. After all, he had done everything for her, because he loved her so much and had spent his life protecting her; guarding her secret, blocking out her deepest pain.

She could only pray that Joe's heart would be big enough to forgive them both, but especially his brother, as she held Frank close.

"It'll be okay, baby," she managed, kissing his shoulder. "You're safe now. You're safe."


	20. Chapter 20

**Note** : _As always, I am so appreciative for your support and encouragement. Thank you to those "following" the story as well as those of you who left reviews. As always, you make me think! :) To that end, many thanks to: Moon in Scorpio, ulstergirl, Red Hardy, hbndgirl, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, BMSH, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, and max 2013._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 20

Frank checked his watch, noting it was just 4:00. He took a few moments to rest his eyes as he leaned back against the couch in the formal living room and to reflect upon the moment. Thanksgiving Day had always been a favorite in his family. For years and years, it had always been the same: watch the parade in the morning until Santa came out at noon, go to Callie's house in the afternoon to spend time with her family and have an early dinner, and then go to his house at night with Callie for a second dinner and dessert. It was always fun as family and friends joined in and somehow made each year's meals more delicious, each year's gathering a little more raucous.

But this year everything was different. This year, he wasn't seeing his family for the first time. This year, there would be no friends over. This year, his little boy would not be seeing everyone and having everyone making a big fuss over his first Thanksgiving, as he had always imagined that it would be. It was his fault, and he knew that, too. He was caught in an impossible situation, truly believing that his presence with Callie would make things worse for his parents and Joe. A holiday wasn't the place to start their much needed conversation, but it hurt him deeply to be separated from his family.

Yesterday's talk with Callie had revealed a lot of things: pain and guilt that he would never get over from what had happened to her so many years ago, pain about Joe's not trusting him when he had asked him to back off, but, above all, deep pain and shame and embarrassment about how he had failed in his role as a big brother, turning his own issues against his kid brother. It had gotten ugly- really ugly- and he had told Joe things that he never should have uttered, taking his own world spinning out of control and projecting it onto Joe.

It had taken his wife to show him that. His wife, who had _been the one_ to go through hell and unbearable pain; his wife, who had lost _her_ best friend, who was suffering even now with the thought that she had been unable to protect his name; his wife, who was now on tenuous ground with Vanessa and Joe, whom she loved so much. Somehow, she had come to realize what _he_ should have known all along. How she had the clarity of mind to see it with everything happening to her, he would never know. What he did know was that she was the bravest, kindest, most inspiring person he had ever known, and he owed her, at the very least, the promise that he would reconcile with Joe and help to make this whole nightmare with Johnny go away.

He just didn't have a clue how to start.

A knock on the wall snapped him from his reverie. "A penny for your thoughts?" his mother-in-law asked as she walked into the room.

He sat up straighter and managed a smile. He really was blessed with the family he had- not only Callie and JJ, but also his in-laws. Callie's parents were great people. It had taken him years to win over her dad, who was every bit as overprotective of Callie as he was sure he would be of his own kids, but, once her dad had realized that he truly loved Callie and was serious about her- would protect her heart- they'd gotten along great. He was funny, smart, and handy, a good person to be around and talk to. And his mother- in- law was very much the same way, but more soft spoken and reserved.

"I wish I could tell you," Frank answered, as he motioned for her to sit down. "Too many thoughts to even bother to start," he answered wryly.

She smiled sympathetically. "I know today is hard for you, Frank. I'm so sorry. I know you miss your family. Callie said your mom called yesterday, but she wasn't sure you'd be up to going. I know things have been pretty tense. I think this is the first time I've ever had Thanksgiving dinner with police officers," she joked.

Frank smiled sadly. They had invited the officers on duty to share in their Thanksgiving dinner, for which they were very appreciative, and they were terrific guys. But she was right. It was unusual, to say the least. "Yeah," he managed. "It's kind of complicated," he admitted.

She met his eyes. "Honey, I hope you don't think I'm overstepping my bounds here, and, if I am, please tell me and I'll back off. I… I'm so enjoying this time with you and Callie and our precious grandbaby. Time goes so fast, and you only get one "first" at things like this. This is Jonathan's first Thanksgiving. He'll never get another one."

"I know," Frank sighed. "I'm well aware of it."

She covered his hand gently with her own. "I cannot imagine what your parents are thinking now, honey," she went on. "But I know that I would be devastated if I couldn't see my grandson on a day like this. Holidays are so few and far between, and, on a day like today, it's all about counting your blessings. I think… I think maybe you should consider putting this difference of opinion aside for just one day. It would mean the world to your parents; I know it."

Frank swallowed hard. "It's a lot more than a difference of opinion," he said at last. "It's really, really a mess."

"I understand," she said, with a final pat on his hand, and she stood up. "You have to do what you think is right. Your nosy mother- in -law will tell you this, though." She gave a self-deprecating smile.

"What's that?" he asked, smiling a bit himself now.

"Your wife is fine with going- trust me. I have my sources," she winked. "And I may or may not have called your mom and told her that I would work on you to get you there for dessert, which I may or may not have brought extras of in case you wanted to bring them. Your mom sounded so hopeful, Frank. Please consider it, if not for you, then for your parents; for Jonathan. I'm sorry if I crossed a line," she went on. "Your father- in -law is ready to kill me- he's mortified."

Frank felt his heart beat a little faster, but he stood as well, walked over, and gave his mother-in-law a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I'm not mad," he replied, grappling with his emotions. "Thanks for trying, Mom," he added, as he had been calling her more and more in recent years. "Happy Thanksgiving," he said softly.

"Happy Thanksgiving," she replied, giving him another quick squeeze. "Now go and talk to Callie while we spend our last few minutes with our grand baby," she said, eyes sparkling. "I'll even make up a bag for Jonathan. Tell your family that we said hello," she finished with a wink, and headed out of the room.

As she left, Frank took a deep breath. She was right. Now matter how hard and painful this was going to be, family was family, and, for one night, he could put everything aside, and so could Joe.

He hoped.

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Arriving at his parents' house almost two hours later, Frank turned off the car in the driveway and took a deep breath. He felt Callie's hand rubbing his thigh. "It's okay, babe," she said quietly, and gave him a reassuring smile. "Coming here was the right thing to do."

He looked into her deep brown eyes and felt a smile tug at his lips. He was nervous as hell, totally unprepared for talking to or seeing his brother. But he realized that Callie had to be equally nervous and upset, and that she was putting that all aside for now, for him. He reached out to touch her cheek tenderly and leaned in for a lingering kiss. "You're okay, you know that?" he murmured after a few moments.

Callie felt her own heart beating more rapidly from the kiss, warmth spreading through her body. "It'll be okay," she repeated. "You have me. I have you. We're safe, remember?" She gave a small smile, reaching over to envelope him in a hug.

"I remember," he whispered into her hair. "I love you, sweetheart."

"Ready?" she asked, as she pulled slowly back from him.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he said in a low voice.

This was it.

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"I think they're here," Vanessa said quietly to Joe. She was sitting on his lap on the Hardys' couch, and she felt Joe tighten his arm around her waist in response.

She watched as he nodded, felt the tension in his body. Yesterday and the day before had been awful. Joe had been so upset about the evidence that he had to bring forth to Grant's lawyer regarding Johnny that he had been almost sick about it. Much, much worse was how Frank had glared at him, refused to speak with him, completely shut him out, full of contempt and loathing. Vanessa had watched as Joe tried to hide his broken heart behind jokes, but his eyes betrayed him; they always had. Between the hostility with Frank and the tension with Callie, because of her own big mouth and silent accusations, and Callie's assumptions, it had promised to be an awful holiday.

They'd tried to make the best of it. Laura was going above and beyond, Fenton was laughing and teasing, and Andrea was enjoying the company. They'd spoken to Aunt Gertrude on the phone, and she was recovering slowly, but recovering nonetheless. There was ample suspicion that he heart attack had been a result of not only shock, but also some medication that may have been tampered with: Cotnig again. But a certain gloom couldn't be avoided with this family divided, and she knew everyone was simply sad. So when Callie's mom had called and spoken with Laura, Vanessa had watched Laura's whole expression change, watched her fight not to get too excited or hopeful that her family might be together this evening. And then Callie had called and said they were coming for a bit, and Vanessa had to look away when she saw Laura actually shed tears. Joe had been shocked, and she could tell that he was caught somewhere in the haze of confusion and hope, himself. He was so nervous, and her heart ached for him.

Once the doorbell rang and Laura rushed to get it, the whole climate of the house seemed to change, from just a house to a home. Vanessa stood up next to Joe, who slipped his hand into hers. They looked at each other and nodded slowly.

Andrea, Fenton, and Laura exchanged hugs with Frank and Callie, and Laura immediately picked up the sleeping baby from Frank's arms. "Come on, you two. Come inside," she welcomed. "Grab some food on the counter before dessert while we hold JJ," she said, tears in her eyes.

After 15 minutes, Callie came into the living room without Frank, who was talking to his parents and Andrea. She approached Joe and Vanessa, who were still standing, somewhat awkwardly, not quite sure what to do with themselves.

"Happy Thanksgiving," Callie said with a warm, genuine smile. "I'm glad we got a chance to come tonight."

Vanessa nodded. Emotional by nature, she felt tears spring to her eyes which she tried to hold back. She looked at the floor.

"Do I get a hug?" Callie asked, voice tight herself.

"Oh, Cal," Vanessa sniffled, "I mean, yeah. Of course!" She bent down and hugged Callie tightly, not wanting to let go. Finally, she broke the embrace. "I'm glad you're here, too."

Callie rubbed Vanessa's arm. "Frank's in the kitchen if you want to say hi to him," she suggested, lightly. Vanessa hesitated, looked quickly at Joe, and then nodded. "Sure. I'll be back in a few minutes." She turned to exit the room.

Callie and Joe stood alone, his good shoulder slumped over and hand in his pocket. They gave each other small smiles.

"Hey, handsome," she managed. "I guess I finally get a few minutes with the good- looking brother, right?" she teased gently.

Joe swallowed hard. Was she... joking with him? She hadn't even been able to meet his eyes two days ago. He took a shaky breath, words, for once, not coming easily. "I, yeah. I mean, obviously. In the looks…"

"Joe," Callie cut him off, "can I just give you a hug before I have to listen to you ramble?"

Joe let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he reached down and took her in his good arm, still able to lift her, petite as she was, off the floor as he held her to him. He was surprised when he felt her hug him back tightly. When he put her down, he felt tears visit his eyes; saw she was fighting her own tears.

She reached for his hand. "We have to talk," she said, simply, wiping back tears. "But not this second. I… I think what needs to be said is better off coming from my husband, anyway. Still- at some point- if you're willing, I DO want to talk to you. I owe you that, at least."

"Okay," he said, still clinging to her hand. "I've missed you, Callie," he managed, lips slightly quivering. She was right. They _did_ have to talk, but this moment, this offer of peace, this... start... was more than he could have hoped for, especially tonight.

"I've missed you, too," she admitted. "Joe," she said, taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes, "we have some things to work out, but I don't want to do this anymore. I can't." She squeezed his hand. "I miss you. Frank misses you. I'll keep it simple on my part. You're one of my best friends, and you mean as much to me as Johnny did- every bit of it. You didn't deserve any of this. I'm so sorry that I hurt you and I hope that in time you'll forgive me; forgive Frank. I love you so much." She continued to wipe at her eyes. "Good enough for now?"

Joe couldn't stop the tears that flowed freely now, and he didn't care how or why Callie was acting like this. She was; that was more than good enough. "You bet," he choked out. "And the same goes for me. I'm so sorry if I hurt you. I swear to God I didn't mean to. And I love you, too. Temporary truce?" he asked, managing a smile.

"No," Callie said.

"Oh… uh…" Joe stammered. Had he misheard anything?

" _Permanent_ truce," Callie corrected.

Joe laughed slightly and reached down to hold her to him again. "Sisters are such a pain in the ass," he joked without thinking, and, when he heard Callie laugh, he had a feeling that things might just be okay.

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The next two hours brought more joy than Joe thought possible. He and Frank had made some small talk, and, though things were certainly strained, his mom's pure joy, the way in which Vanessa and Callie seemed to be resuming normal conversation, and Fenton and Andrea's laughing brought an air of normalcy and warmth to the home. Having Frank and Callie there, and especially JJ, literally changed the dynamic of the holiday.

When JJ woke up, and Callie fed him, he was suddenly incredibly alert and active. "Unca! Unca!" he garbled, "UpUpUpUp!" Joe laughed as he picked JJ up in his one arm, and fought tears again as JJ tried to kiss him. "Hi Buddy," he said warmly, kissing him on the nose. "Unca Joe missed you!"

"Oh my gosh!"Vanessa exclaimed to Callie. "You put him in the little turkey jammies we bought you!"

Callie laughed. "Believe me, I thought about not doing it. He looks so silly!"

"No he doesn't!" Vanessa exclaimed. "He looks so handsome, don't you JJ?" she asked.

JJ was bouncing happily on Joe's lap, ignoring the indignity of the feathers sticking up from the bottoms of his pajamas and the little hood with the turkey eyes and beak on his head. Callie smiled as she watched Joe with her son, as it should be. JJ did look comical, but she could almost picture the excitement on Joe's face when he had picked out that outfit. And now, as he made silly faces at JJ, and posed for pictures with her son as Laura snapped happily away, she felt the love radiating from him. Yes- it had been the right thing to come tonight.

If only Frank would loosen up, but there was so much heaviness and heartache in him, still. She saw he was trying, but knew what was on his mind. He had barely left her side all night, and, when he did, it was to speak with his dad more than anyone. But his eyes never left Joe, and he seemed to need her physical presence by him at all times. That was okay. She needed him, too, the weight of the unspoken words, the torrent of emotions, her secret, his guilt: they all came together in their silent and impregnable bond, a bond shared by them alone. Slowly, unobtrusively, she looked up and kissed his cheek. "It's time," she whispered in his ear. And he surreptitiously leaned his forehead against hers and nodded, his lips touching hers for the smallest portion of an instant.

Fenton had playfully taken JJ from Joe's arm and placed him on the floor to crawl around, much to the delight of everyone. The timing couldn't have been better as everyone was distracted by the baby.

Frank took a long, deep breath. This was it. "Joe?" he asked quietly, as he got up and moved next to his brother.

Joe looked up.

"Can we talk?"

Joe nodded and quietly followed his brother from the room as he headed towards their old hangout in the basement, where his parents still kept some of their things. There was a new couch; furniture had been rearranged. It was the same, but altogether different. It was, he realized, very much like him and his brother- familiar, strange, warm, and cold all at once.

Frank stood silently for several minutes. Joe watched him closely, his own heart pounding in his chest. In the distance, the phone rang several times.

Before Frank could utter a word, Fenton came downstairs, eyes serious, face pale. "Boys," he said quickly, "we have a serious issue. Two, actually." His tone was grim. "Chief Collig's wife was rushed to the emergency room a few hours ago after collapsing at dinner."

"Is she okay?" Joe asked, shocked.

"It's very serious," Fenton replied, angry. "And there's reason to believe this may be Cotnig's work."

Frank sucked in his breath. "Why?"

"She started complaining of nausea and abdominal pain, headache and disorientation. She also experienced an irregular heartbeat. After an ECG and blood test were completed, she was diagnosed with Digoxin Poisoning, and she's being watched closely. It was dinner time; Digoxin poisoning; and the defibrillator was missing from Collig's car. This has to be Cotnig- all 'D'."

Joe shook his head, furious. "This has to end!" he shouted, slamming his good hand against the wall.

"What's the other thing?" Frank asked, quiet.

Fenton rubbed his temple. "The Grant case. Yesterday, as you know, the judge ordered that Grant be evaluated by a court ordered psychiatrist."

Frank and Joe couldn't look at each other. Yes, they well knew.

"Uh huh," Frank mumbled.

"Well, he was evaluated today. Results are pending. But they don't matter now that much, because he tried to commit suicide today and was rushed to Bayport General."

"What?!" Frank cried. "Are you kidding me?"

"No," Fenton said grimly. "I'm not."

"Okay," Joe said calmly. "No big deal. The results will come in and that'll be that. He'll be taken back to his cell in the meantime."

"No. No, he won't," Fenton replied.

Joe felt his heart start to pound. "Why not?" he asked."Did he die at the hospital?"

"No," Fenton replied, looking straight at Frank. "He escaped from it."


	21. Chapter 21

**Note:** _Many, many thanks for the follows and reviews for this story. This chapter is the last one before the action really picks up as the guys work on the mystery. Thank you so much to ulstergirl, Red Hardy (Frank thanks you for your forgiveness), Erin Jordan, max 2013, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, BMSH, Caranath (you're right! We DO tend to cast Frank in that role, right!?), and Hero 76 for your comments._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 21

"What can I do to convince you to stay with me so I don't have to deal with everything today?" Frank asked Callie, sitting up in bed the next morning. He reached his arms out for her.

Callie smiled softly and crossed the room, where she had just finished drying her hair after taking an early morning shower. She leaned over and gave Frank a kiss on the cheek. "Absolutely nothing, I'm sad to say," she replied. "Because the longer you put this off, the harder it's going to be. And it's already pretty bad."

Frank sighed and leaned his head back. She was right. "I guess," he mumbled.

She sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand. "Honey, last night- it was good. There's a lot to heal with Joe and Vanessa, but there's a path now: we're willing and so are they. That's a blessing. And they're here now, and you can actually make progress on this case with your dad. It's … I mean, it's really scary that two maniacs are on the loose, and one of them is after your dad; and they're both murderers. The best decision that Chief Collig made, even with his wife in the hospital, was to insist that Joe and Van and your parents stay with us until this is over. We have the biggest house; we can triple the police protection on us while you work. And I know Phil can help, and even Biff and Pat and anyone else you need. I need this to end," she admitted. "It's stressful and scary and I just want to move on with my life. We all do."

Frank gently pulled Callie back into him and wrapped her in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby. I know. You don't deserve this," he said softly.

Callie leaned her head against his shoulder. "No one deserves this, honey. But you'll be able to work together now. And a small part of me is hopeful that this forced togetherness will help us all as a family. And I think we're all okay here. Nothing bad can happen if we're together, right?" she asked him.

Frank looked down at her and felt his heart melt a little as he gazed into her chocolate eyes. He ran his fingers through her soft golden blonde hair, body redolent of vanilla perfume, and smiled. "You're so beautiful," he whispered.

Callie blushed. "I'll take that as a 'right, Cal,'" she answered, eyes downcast, blushing.

"Right, Cal," he replied in a low voice, as he started kissing her neck and ear.

"Frank," she moaned, breathless. "We can't."

"Why not?" he asked, completely ignoring her and gently pushing her back on the mattress.

"Because," she managed, trying to form coherent thoughts and words as Frank's kisses and caresses began to overwhelm her senses. "Joe's here." Her protestations became weaker as a tingling warmth spread throughout her body. "And Van. And JJ will be up soon…" Her voice faded out.

"Well, then… time is of the essence," he replied huskily. And, as his lips covered hers, she could only feel, and then she ceased to think anything at all.

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A little over an hour later, Frank came downstairs, heading into the kitchen. He was supposed to meet with Joe at 9:00, something he was hesitant, at best, to do, but it was something he could no longer put off. He'd desperately needed NOT to think this morning, knowing he'd only talk himself out of having 'the talk' with his brother. Fortunately, he had managed to convince Callie to help him pass the time, and he smiled and bit his lip at the thought. He had lucked out in so many ways with her, could not have loved her more. And she WAS so very beautiful, in so many ways.

As he entered the kitchen, he stopped immediately. Joe was sitting at the kitchen table, hair still mussed, in sweats and a tee shirt, his left arm still immobile in the brace. He looked up when Frank came in and gave the smallest of smiles. "Hey," he said. "Fancy meeting you here again."

"Why don't you dress down? You'll be more comfortable," Frank replied, dryly.

"It's just us," Joe replied. "I didn't think you'd care. I was just hungry and came down a little early to see what you had." His voice was uncharacteristically serious.

Frank sighed inwardly. He hated strained conversations and he knew that Joe did as well. It was as if there was a huge wall separating them, and he had no idea how to navigate it. Figuring that food was as safe a subject as they came, he walked to to the fridge and started grabbing ingredients. "Want an omelette?" he asked. "All the trimmings," he went on. "Callie likes it with spinach and broccoli, but I assume you're okay leaving that for her. Cheese, onions, peppers, ham, and lots of bacon, right?" he asked from memory, tossing ingredients on the counter.

"Yeah. Sure," Joe replied, surprised. "That'd be great. I'll start the coffee. Easy enough with one arm."

Frank gave a small smile. "I'll start it. Callie should be down with JJ soon. Is Vanessa up?"

Joe looked at Frank and let out a small laugh. "Yeah. She was up about an hour or so ago. Said she heard some loud noises coming from down the hallway."

Frank's mouth fell open and he turned bright red. Joe started laughing as Frank looked the other way. "Listen, good for you, bro," Joe teased him. "Just remember to shut the door when mom and dad are here."

Frank cleared his throat and started chopping ingredients, still red, as Joe continued to laugh. It felt good to tease his brother, as fleeting as it might be. It was almost normal at the moment.

"Yeah, well, you know…" Frank stuttered. "I wouldn't mention that to Callie."

Joe started the coffee anyway and raised his hand in mock protest. "I wouldn't dream of it, stud," he joked, and then finished, "and Vanessa told me she was going to chat with Callie this morning for a bit while we wait for dad and mom to get here. They're coming around 1:00, right?"

Frank sighed and then nodded, contemplating just how long a blush could last. "Yeah. That's what dad said- after they visit Mrs. Collig in the hospital. Chief Collig may come over, too. We need to really get on this. Find out the facts from last night. See if we can break these poem messages. And maybe," he swallowed, fighting the tightness in his voice, "maybe talk about the Grant case together." He met Joe's eyes slowly.

Joe felt his heart stop for a minute. This was it. Frank had mentioned the case, had actually dared to suggest that they could discuss it. It was an opening that could break the dam and drown them in unspoken words and feelings, or it could be the very thing that could seal it and start to make it whole again.

He looked at his big brother, saw the doubt, hesitation, and… and fear in his eyes.

Frank waited patiently.

"Sure," Joe said at last, and slowly reached out and rested a hand on his brother's back, mising the physical closeness he'd always shared with him. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Frank looked down and continued to chop the ingredients as he started to throw them in the pan. Joe was absolutely shocked to see him blinking back tears.

"Frank?" he asked hesitantly.

"Damned onions," Frank grumbled, and went back to cooking.

Joe squeezed Frank's shoulder and had enough sense to say, "I'm gonna get dressed real quick. I'll be down in ten minutes with Vanessa, okay?" He knew Frank needed space.

Frank nodded, and Joe saw him wipe his eyes before he turned away, the onions apparently more potent than he'd remembered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Several hours passed. Frank looked at his watch and realized that it was just after noon, and his parents would be arriving within the hour. The morning had gone smoothly enough. Things were strained, for sure, but now with the cases- both of them- to work on, together, they were bearable. Callie and Vanessa had spent the morning in companionable small talk, and he could not have been more proud of Callie for putting Vanessa's words aside and working on their relationship. He knew how deep those wounds ran, but she was doing it, and both women seemed happy. Plus, JJ continued to lighten everyone's spirits, crawling more quickly than ever and happy as a clam to be with his aunt and uncle.

But… now it was time. Before his dad and Chief Collig arrived, he had to talk to Joe. He took a deep breath and strode into the living room, where Joe was waiting, just as he said he would be.

Frank took a seat next to him and gave a small smile. "So…" he started.

Joe met his eyes. "So…" He cleared his throat. "Where do you want to start. Which- you know- case?" He was far more nervous than he was trying to appear.

"I...uh..." Frank began, then sighed deeply. "It has to be the Grant case," he said at last. "But… Joe… can we talk? You know, about everything?"

Joe swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and nodded. This was it. He had rarely felt such a mixture of fear and hope. "We can talk about whatever you'd like," he replied, evenly, trying to be calm.

Frank looked at the floor. He was grappling with a torrent of emotions and he couldn't wrap his mind around any of them. So he decided, at last, to do something he never did- to just speak off the cuff and not to think. He closed his eyes for a minute and prayed that the right words and the right self-control would find him. He needed to be honest- he owed that to himself and Joe- and he needed to convey his remorse sincerely. When he opened them again, he saw Joe staring at him intensely.

"Joe," he found himself saying at last, "Let me start here. I owe you an apology- a big one." He met Joe's eyes, felt the blush come back to his cheeks. "I said some terrible things to you, I know I did, and I'm sorry." He had to pause for a moment.

Joe felt his heart stop for an instant and he sucked in his breath. This was the last thing he had expected, and he was almost afraid to hope. "Go on," he answered, cautiously, but, as he saw how Frank was struggling, his heart went out to him. "It's okay," he managed, not being able to see Frank hurting, and gently touched Frank's arm.

Frank smiled sadly. "Thanks, Joe. Really. But no- it's not okay, even though you're gracious enough to say that it is. I'm your older brother and it's my job to lead by example. I apologize," he continued, voice low, "specifically, for telling you I didn't want to work with you and for saying I don't trust you and for lashing out at you like I did. You're my partner," he emphasized, "and I DO trust you- I always have- with my life; my family's life. I…" His voice cut out, and emotions started to surface which he desperately tried to push down.

Joe felt his own eyes burn with tears. He'd needed those words so badly, yet there was so much more to say; to explain. "Frank," he said, again holding his forearm, "you DID hurt me. But- I mean, WHY? What did I do that was so bad?" He needed to know, needed to verify that it wasn't solely him that had caused this rift.

To his absolute shock, Frank couldn't meet his eyes and stood up, as though Joe's touch was physically painful to him. When he turned to speak, Joe couldn't turn away. There was a pain in his brother's eyes he had never seen before, so deep and raw that it almost hurt him to look at him.

"You should have let it go," Frank managed, lips quivering. "I never ask you for anything; you know that. You needed to have done me this one favor."

Joe stood as well and walked to Frank. "I know," he admitted."God, Frank. I've thought about that endlessly. I was trying to do the right thing; I swear to you I was. But, in this case, I probably should have left it to fate what the courts decided. I see that now. I messed up. I _inadvertently_ put my desire to do right by a stranger ahead of my desire to do right by you and Callie and I acknowledge that- you're absolutely right. I guess-" he sighed heavily. "I guess deep down maybe a part of me didn't understand why _you_ didn't understand, and that was hurtful. I thought you were doubting my instincts and - Hell, Frank -I didn't even think consciously about this, but maybe I thought that you were putting more faith in Johnny than in me. I don't get it even now- why would you think for a second I would hurt Johnny's name? I liked him so much. But blood is thicker than water, Frank, no matter how close of a friend he was; that's how it's always been. I didn't believe- I DON'T believe- any of the "evidence" and I swear to you what I told you at the start- I WILL clear his name. I felt like you had no faith in me."

Frank's face had gone pale, and Joe ALMOST stopped, but he had gone too far. They needed to get this out.

"It's never been about not having faith in you," Frank replied at last. "And I never put Johnny above you. I don't think I did. I... I didn't mean to-" He was tripping over his words, a vortex of emotion. Joe was so much better than him at expressing his feelings; he always had been. He almost felt dizzy.

Joe felt his face flush, embarrassed, but he went on. No one could ever accuse him of not being honest. "Yes, you did," he said at last. "And I don't understand why. I'm your brother, Frank. I know we have our own lives now; I get that. But Johnny was your friend- I'm your family," he said again, needing Frank to understand.

Frank appeared completely flustered and was silent for a moment, still unable to meet Joe's eyes. "I'm sorry," he managed. "But Johnny was like family to Callie, and I have to respect that, Joe. I..." His voice cut off, and he looked truly upset. "I hurt you. I know I did, okay? I promise you that I didn't mean it, and I know that those words are exactly what you've been saying to me all this time, so they probably sound hollow right now. I made a mess of everything." His voice was trembling.

Joe was staring to get unnerved, watching his brother barely holding on. Still, he had to know. "Why?" he whispered.

"I told you what would happen if you pursued this case," Frank answered, voice low. "I told you that the press would be unavoidable and the press doesn't care about the truth. You shouldn't have to clear his name-it shouldn't have been damaged to start with."

"But I didn't do that, Frank," Joe pleaded, still fighting tears."I didn't accuse him. Grant did. It would have come out one way or another."

"I know," Frank whispered."I DO know that. But you certainly didn't help matters by pushing the case forward so quickly and investigating on your own. You could have raised your concerns to the court if you felt that you needed to- even if it went against what I asked you to do-and then just dropped it."

"Okay," Joe replied at last. "Okay- yeah. I'll concede that point. But that wasn't my intent. This was never about Johnny to me."

"But it was ALWAYS about Johnny to me! And to Callie!" Frank replied, upset. "That's what you don't really get."

"I DO get it," Joe answered. "Come on, Frank. Let's keep it real. Johnny was a celebrity. He- I mean, people are always going to find dirt on him- TRUE or NOT-forever. He was a great person, a truly wonderful guy. But you can't protect his name forever on everything- it's impossible. I-I guess I don't fully understand why you reacted so strongly. I feel like if it were, like, I don't know-" He struggled for words. "Phil, Chet, Biff, Tony, Liz- _anyone_ else, you would have worked with me, not taken it so damned personally. I know you and Johnny were close; I GET that. I also know that Callie and Johnny were REALLY close, which is WHY- again- I ADMIT I should have backed off. But I didn't expect such a visceral reaction from you."

Joe suddenly stopped talking as he looked at his brother. FRANK WAS CRYING. That never, ever happened. He didn't know what to do; what he had said that was so upsetting, but suddenly he didn't care. Frank looked completely distraught and almost in pain, and that was enough for nothing else to matter. "Frank-" he said, going to approach him, but Frank backed away, shaking his head. He didn't even try to hide his tears.

He choked out his words. "Joe," he said, voice unsteady. "I have shared almost all parts of my life with you- always. You know that. We have a lot of the same friends; we grew up together; we work together. And you are -hands down- my best friend, right?"

Joe nodded, heart aching for Frank. He was quiet, letting Frank get out whatever he needed to.

"But there are some things you DON'T know about me. I have experiences in things that you don't, and the same is true, I'm sure, for you. I have a whole life with Callie that you know less about than you think you do, as I'm sure you have with Vanessa. Is that fair?" His voice was shaky and he was rubbing his temple.

"Yes," Joe replied, careful to listen more than talk right now.

"Joe, Johnny is part of what you, _through no fault of your own,_ don't understand. He's why I reacted so strongly to you- again, not your fault. I know I hurt you badly, more than you ever deserved from anyone, much less me. I hope you can learn to trust me again, and know that I will never betray you. And if you don't, I understand that, too. I do. But it would really kill me, Joe, because, with this one exception, I would- I will- never be at odds with you again. It may not be fair of me not to explain further, but I... I just can't. I won't. Yes, Joe- there IS a backstory to Johnny that I beg you- BEG you- never to ask me about, because I can not and will not get into it." He was taking shaky breaths, blinking back tears. "That's why Vanessa hurt Callie so much- we both know she didn't mean to, but she did."

He was shaking. Visibly shaking. Joe was transfixed, his heart breaking, not knowing what to do.

"It called to light what we hoped no one would ever think. So let me be clear." He met Joe's eyes. "I can't believe I even have to say this," he said, voice breaking, "but Callie and Johnny _never_ had a romantic relationship. At all. So stop even thinking it and you'd best defend both my wife and my friend if that EVER comes up again. Do you understand?" His eyes were filled with such deep pain.

"I never thought that," Joe managed. "I swear I didn't."

"Good," Frank replied, wiping back tears. "Yet Vanessa intimated it- and there are others who probably did, too. But you know what? I know the truth, and I don't give a damn what anyone _thinks_ \- though I'm sure that Callie does, so NEVER let it be spoken again- got it?" He willed himself to get to the point.

Joe just nodded.

"Joe, there are some things that are too-" he breathed deeply, and Joe could see he was choosing his words very, very carefully. "-complicated, too personal, to ever get into. Please, PLEASE-" he begged, "don't ever ask. Have enough respect for me not to. Just know that Johnny was exactly what you think he was: fun, smart, talented... and more generous than you could know. He was the bravest and most selfless person I have ever met, and Callie- and probably Vanessa, but especially Callie- owes her life to him. So basically, I owe mine to him, too. He's not here now, and you're right- he's not technically my family- but that doesn't mean I wouldn't protect him like I would protect you; if for no other reason, than for what he did- what he meant- to my wife."

His head was pounding. "I'm scared, Joe. I'm scared I'll lose your respect and trust and confidence and our relationship because of what you don't know, and what I can't tell you. And that's the last thing I would ever want. I... all I can say is that it has something to do with Callie's past, and I probably shouldn't even say that. Johnny saved her life, Joe- literally. HE SAVED HER LIFE. He was there for her when... when... I wasn't."

He felt his chest constricting as he tried to explain and not explain at the same time. This wasn't logic and math and order. This was Callie, raw emotion. "I wasn't thinking straight- I'm still not- and I should have told you that before, because it probably - _definitely_ -would have changed everything for us if you'd known. I'm so sorry. If it wasn't for him, Callie wouldn't even be here now, and my life would be completely different; I don't even want to imagine that. But I can't tell you. I... I can't _ever.._."

Frank was trembling, almost unable to speak, as the unspeakable horror of the past kept shouting at him, threatening his future. It wasn't that he didn't trust Joe at all. In fact, when he had found out what happened to Callie, years ago, he could have used Joe's support badly as he struggled so hard to know how to handle it, how to help the woman he loved so deeply, as he fought his own rage and frustration and sickness and horror. But God- it was such a raw and difficult time. When they had reconciled, Callie was both incredibly strong and incredibly fragile. He had to earn her trust back, and she was much, much more guarded than she had ever been. She had finally let him back in again, given herself to him totally, but even now, she held back the smallest amount with everyone else, with the possible ironic exception of Joe. She did not trust easily, but when she did, she was passionate and fiercely protective; she really was exactly like Joe in that way. At the time, though, Callie and Joe had a tenuous relationship at best. And she not only had to deal with the deep trauma of what had happened, but also with the fact that, other than Johnny, she had been completely and totally alone with her secret for a long time. He couldn't imagine even today how she had survived and overcome IT by herself; that's how remarkable Callie was.

He, too, had needed guidance and he had never gotten it, had figured out everything on his own. If ever he had needed Joe, it was then. But the timing had been wrong and it was not his decision to make. If Joe knew now, he would be crushed, absolutely devastated, but would provide an extra safety net for Callie, as he was already so protective of her, loved her like a sister. In the past, Joe's knowledge could have prevented any number of misunderstandings over the years, could have helped her so many times. Timing had conspired against her, though, and if she could survive without the support of almost anyone, then he could, too, though he often wanted to scream for help, himself.

No matter what, he couldn't betray Callie, take from her that decision of who to tell and who not to tell. To do that would be to take away what little power she had over what had happened, and he could never, ever do that. She had lost so much already, had been physically, mentally, and emotionally traumatized so badly that her life had been changed forever. It was her decision to make, and hers alone, and he would not challenge her on it. Each day she amazed him by how far she had come, how she'd overcome so much, so gracefully, with a quiet inner strength and intensity that humbled him and put any pain he had ever experienced in perspective. All he could do was to support her and hold her and love her enough to remind her that she had control, always. If she wanted it buried, and she did, that was the very least he could do for her. And if his inability to share that secret cost him his brother's trust, their relationship, then it had to be that way, though it would break his heart.

He closed his eyes, felt the tears escape, tried to breathe evenly. He couldn't center himself, fought panic as he realized what this exact moment would mean for his future. It'd be a miracle if Joe didn't challenge him on this _. Oh, Joe. What would you have done if you were me? If the worst thing you could ever conceive of happened to Vanessa, and when you found out, it was worse than that, unimaginably horrifying? You would have protected her, too, her secret- if she asked you to, even if it meant pushing me away. May you never know the horror of having the woman you love more than life suffer like that. Please, Joe. Please understand._ He silently pleaded with his brother _._

His little brother... his most precious wife. This one moment.

Joe was shocked and humbled and completely perplexed about Frank's revelation. He was seeing his brother come undone, knowing he could never even imagine what Frank was talking about that had clearly shaken him so deeply. But if he was reacting so strongly, and it was about Callie... on some level, he understood the need for privacy. And he fought back the inexplicable coldness that traveled through his veins when he considered the possibility that Callie had somehow been hurt so badly by something that apparently she still couldn't talk about it, even to him, since she knew how much he loved her. So it had to have been very, very bad, because he and Callie talked about a lot, trusted each other, forever bound by their love for Frank and their genuine affection for each other.

Vaguely, his mind slipped back to several years ago, the only other time he had seen Frank act so emotionally. It had something to do with Callie; he remembered that. It was a reaction, a look in his eyes, a fierce, all-consuming protectiveness. He barely remembered the context, but he did remember thinking that Frank was holding something back, even then. But he would not speculate; after all, speculation and innuendo had started so much trouble already.

And then he knew, clear as day. Frank had his own life and he knew he could and would _have to_ let it go. He owed his brother his privacy; his sister -in -law hers. He loved them enough to respect that whatever they knew, they didn't want him to know. It stung, it hurt, it completely confused him, but it was okay. It had to be; there was no other choice. He would not make this about trust like Frank had made it about loyalty, repeat the same mistake. On some level, some instinct told him it _wasn't about trust at all_ \- he knew it was true, though it logically made no sense-and that thought provided a measure of comfort. He loved them both enough to put their need for privacy above his need for truth.

He walked to his brother and impulsively hugged him as tightly as he could with his one arm, and Frank clung to him as well.

"Is she okay?" he asked softly. "Please tell me that she is." Really, that was all that mattered.

Frank just nodded weakly. He was still trembling.

"I'm sorry," Joe said gently, rubbing Frank's back. No matter what, even through this deeply emotional and difficult time, the terrible words and accusations, these nightmare cases that had almost torn them and their families apart, he adored his older brother, and hated to see him distraught. Truth be told, if he was being fair, this year was the only time in his whole life that Frank had let him down. Frank had stood by him, had his back, covered for him, supported him during the hardest times in his life: and he never complained, taking it all in stride with a smile and deep pride in his big brother role. And he had counted on Frank's steadfast loyalty almost too much, many times just assuming that he could act any way to Frank and get away with it. When Iola had died, he'd gone out of his mind with grief, lashing out, getting in some serious trouble, drowning in depression which manifested in a horrible attitude and crazy rebellion. And not once- not one time- had Frank turned his back on him, told him to go it alone.

Only these past 8 months out of his 26 years as a brother had Frank faltered, only since Cotnig had appeared, only since Callie and JJ had been in danger. That was understandable. Plus, apparently his brother and sister -in-law had been living with some sort of painful secret for 8 years and he'd had no idea. As he swallowed the lump that had started to form in his throat again, he had to admit that his brother deserved a break. He missed Frank terribly, and they were both at fault for this mess in some form. If he let it go, and gave Frank a chance, as Frank had given him hundreds of times when he'd screwed up, then maybe they'd get back to normal. He needed that as much as Frank did.

He spoke at last, still hugging Frank. "It's okay. Don't say that you _can't_ tell me, though, because you _can_. It's your choice not to, and honestly, you're making me a little nervous, because I can tell that whatever it is- it's serious and still hurts you, and apparently it's been a long time that you've lived with it, by yourself. You're not alone, okay? If you ever DO want to talk about it, I will be here to listen, no matter how bad or painful or scary it is. And I won't abandon you; know that. And the same goes for Callie, Frank. She's my sister and I'd always support her. But I promise that I will never mention it again. I never needed to know details, Frank. I just needed to know that there was a valid reason for what you asked me to do, because it went against my own beliefs. That's really all. But I should have trusted you enough to know that there was." He felt Frank relax against him, ever so slightly. "We need to be on the same team again. I love you," he said, and repeated it. "I love you, Frank. It's done."

"I'm so sorry. And I love you, too," Frank managed, cupping the back of his brother's neck with one hand as he held him tightly with the other arm. He had never appreciated or respected his brother more, realizing again what an exceptional person his brother was. He should have told him all of this earlier, trusted that Joe would honor his and Callie's request with just a simple explanation, as he had just proven. He took a moment to say a prayer of thanks for him; for Joe's kindness and generosity and maturity and ability to forgive and love with his whole heart. "I hope to be half the man you are one day, Joe. Thank you." Slowly, he pulled back, eyes still bright with tears. "Yeah. It's done."

In the distance, the doorbell rang, and both brothers looked up. "I guess that's dad," Frank said at last. "Come on. Let's see if we can't get the bad guys before something else happens. It should be a lot easier now that we're on the same team again."

"Always," Joe nodded, and slung his good arm around Frank's shoulders. "Let's do it."


	22. Chapter 22

**Note:** _Thank you so much for all of the support and for those of you who took the time to leave feedback. Every one of your comments is greatly appreciated: Since the last chapter, thanks to Red Hardy (I sent you a PM), Bee Bee 18, SnowPrincess 88, Moon in Scorpio, Caranath, EvergreenDreamweaver, max 2013, BMSH, Erin Jordan, Paulina Ann, hbndgirl, and ulstergirl for your feedback. You made my day (s)!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 22

Laura, Fenton, and Ezra Collig entered Frank and Callie's house and were ushered in. After Laura gave the boys hugs, she excused herself to go and see JJ, Callie, and Vanessa.

After Fenton brought the luggage upstairs, he, Ezra, Frank, and Joe reconvened in the living room.

"How's your wife doing, Chief?" Joe asked as they settled in.

"She's not great," Collig responded, bluntly. "Which is why we need to get answers- immediately- on the Cotnig case. I will kill the bastard. I'm done playing around." His eyes were dark and mirrored by the serious expression on Fenton's face.

"We will," Joe assured him. "I agree. It's taken too long." Deciding to put the Grant case on hold briefly, Joe began, "Okay. Let's review what we know and what we don't."

"Dad?" Frank interjected. "Did we ever get a report back on the partial print? Maybe we should start there, because that's who he's working with."

"We did," Collig answered, and reached into his pocket. "Though I'll be damned if I can figure this one out. "It's a 22 year old female who had been brought in for prostitution when she was 18. That's all we have in the system for her. The name is," he squinted through the reading glasses he had just taken out, "Catrina Gatnova."

"Are you KIDDING?" Joe asked, shocked. "A 22 year old woman broke into our office? How? And she's a former prostitute? What the hell kind of connection to Cotnig can SHE have?"

"I have no idea," Collig admitted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But it's time to use our brainpower to figure it out."

"Well, the print was probably left by accident," Frank postulated, "because Cotnig wouldn't make that mistake. Unless…"

"Unless what?" Joe asked.

Frank paused, contemplative. When he spoke, he looked serious. "Unless Cotnig WANTED us to see a connection, somehow. I mean, I know it's a crazy idea, but what if… what if he's taunting us by this?"

"That's a stretch," Fenton interjected. "I see your reasoning, Frank- but ONE print?"

"Yeah- that's WHY I'm saying it. The print- the only one- was found on the aspirin bottle. Why would that be? And how the hell Cotnig knew I was allergic to it is still beyond me."

"He'd have to have access to your medical records," Fenton answered, "which, to be honest, are difficult, but not impossible, to get for a good hacker. I bet Phil could get that information."

"That's true," Frank agreed thoughtfully. "I mean, Phil can get pretty much anything. I bet if I asked him to, he could probably figure out which records system may have been infiltrated somehow. It'd take a long time... but if we need him, let's put that idea out there as a possibility."

"Okay, so…" Joe cut in. "So what do we know about this girl?"

"Not much," Collig admitted. "I'll pull up the few facts we do know and see if I can get her mug shot, but that's about it. Hold on." He radioed to one of the officers waiting outside and asked him to go back to the station and talk to the Lieutenant to get that info. "He'll be back with the hour," Collig went on. "Until then, what else do we know?"

"I think it's important to note that, after Aunt Gertrude received her message, no other message has been sent. That's why I still think that the clues are in those lines," Frank replied. "And worse, if that's true, then that means that whatever he is concocting is about to start, if it hasn't already," he added, running a hand nervously through his hair.

"Yeah- I agree with that," Joe said, nodding. "Because, Chief- look at the pattern. Frank was the "A"- aspirin; Callie was the "B"- brakes; I was the "C"- concussion; collarbone; your wife was the "D"- digoxin poisoning. It skipped to Aunt Gertrude- "G" with the "H" for heart attack. Names weren't important before, so he's getting a little sloppy- he may be rushing. So, if the pattern fits the same way it did last time, then he stopped with a gap in E and F- which means Ezra and Fenton- just to call our attention to it. And last time, Chief, you were electrocuted with the electric grate and dad was in the firehouse and almost burned to death- the "E" and "F"- so we would have to look out for whatever he has planned that may or may not start with those letters."

"Good call, Joe," Fenton added, thoughtfully. "But why do you say 'may not' start with them this time?"

"Because," Frank interjected, "he's done with the game at this point. He knows that we know about his patterns. He proved he can continue to enforce them at this point. The only thing that he has left to prove is that he can take you and Chief Collig down- that's it."

"Wonderful," Ezra Collig replied sarcastically. "And in the meantime, just like last time, he will get to us through our families first. And Frank was right to be concerned about his family in particular," Collig went on, angrily. "Cotnig doesn't play games. So the message sent on the formula box was clearly a threat on his son, and he was also right about you, Joe, and my wife- the level of poisoning for her and the extent of your beating were not enough to kill either of you. But it was certainly possible that Frank and Callie could have died based on what happened with them. Son, be very careful," he said right to Frank.

Frank nodded, and Joe could tell he was upset. Joe placed a comforting hand on his back, which Fenton caught immediately. "It looks as if you two have worked out your… issues," he commented. "That's really great. It's about time."

Both Frank and Joe nodded, and Joe managed a small smile. "Yeah- it's all good."

Fenton gave him a surreptitious wink and Joe nodded and gave a thumbs-up.

Frank sighed. "I wouldn't care if he was after ME- but I draw a line at my family," Frank answered, firmly. "And obviously I am not the real target. Dad and Chief Collig are. So why go after me?"

"That's a good question," Fenton replied. "The obvious answer is that your son is my grandson, and-" Fenton's voice cracked a bit as he cleared his throat, "no one matters more than that child."

Frank met his dad's eyes and gave a small smile. He knew. They both knew. JJ centered their whole family, represented everything good and innocent, and carried on Fenton's name. Callie and Vanessa had not yet given birth, and JJ was the only present tangible reminder that Fenton's family would continue through generations to come.

"No," Joe cut in, and everyone looked at him, surprised that he would cut into that sweet moment. "Look, there has to be more to it than that. Cotnig doesn't do ANYTHING for obvious reasons. Maybe a part of it is that JJ is dad's grandson- sure. But… there's something we're all missing here and I don't know what it is. I have a feeling- that's all."

"Perhaps," Fenton acknowledged. "Fair point. Ugh- it's so frustrating!" he exclaimed. "To be a detective is to analyze things from so many different angles, but normally there's a point on which overthinking kills you. That's not the case here. We need to overthink- this is really complex."

"Well, what about the messages?" Collig cut in. "Let's look at them again. I have the messages and colors all typed up. Here they are again." He gave each of the other men copies of the messages.

" _Though precious moments do head your way now/ This time I will say that they will not last." (Tony-Red)_

" _Be so vigilant; do not ask for how/ Madness fleeting really remains a mask."(Biff- Orange)_

" _Yet will you question why I act so frank? /There eventually you will bother."(Chet- Yellow)_

" _Is cause for revenge enough? For some, thanks,/ Method dying? Not so for your father." (Don- Green)_

" _In fact, in due time, the young and bright sun/ It your guiding star, will finally die out". (Ezra- Red)_

" _The time and the pattern for me have been fun/ Plays and works converge; detectives will doubt." (Frank- Orange)_

" _The lives of detective, family, friend/ Things done in the past will now be avenged."(Gertrude- Yellow)_

"Did you guys look into the color symbolism?" Collig asked.

"No," Frank admitted. "I'm sorry. I was kind of distracted lately."

"It's okay," Joe said comfortingly. "Don't worry about it. Besides, we all went line by line and discussed the threats there and the double meanings, so at least we got a good chunk of the messages analyzed. And the ABC pattern is obvious anyway."

"Thanks, Joe," Frank replied, and Joe patted his back gently.

"So we are absolutely still stuck," Collig replied, disgustedly. "This is ridiculous."

"Maybe not," Frank said thoughtfully, suddenly remembering Phil's words. "Do you all mind if I bring Callie in here? She's got a Masters degree in Literature. Maybe she would see something we're not seeing."

"I still can't believe that you married someone who has a degree in the exact opposite field that you do," Joe replied with a chuckle. "Did she complete her degree 'for fun', too?" he teased.

Frank laughed and blushed. "Would you make fun of me if I said yes?" he asked.

"Yes!" Joe, Ezra, and Fenton replied simultaneously.

"Then no," Frank answered dryly.

"Go get her," Joe said, shrugging his one good shoulder. "I think we need any help we can get at this point."

"Be right back," he replied. Less than five minutes later, Callie and Frank returned, hand in hand.

"This is very exciting," Callie said with a small smile, though it didn't quite meet her eyes, after greeting everyone. Joe noticed that she appeared more drawn and pale than normal, despite the strength in her voice. "It's not often that my degree gets any use, unless you need me to translate _Beowulf_ from Old English or something."

"That's next week," Joe said to her with a small wink.

"Oh," she replied. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll brush up on it, then." Then, turning to Frank, she asked, "So what's up?"

"We have these messages from Cotnig," he told her evenly. "I'm not sure if they're statements or parts of a poem. I mean, they kind of rhyme," he added, "but otherwise… we honestly have no idea. Could you take a look for us in case we're missing something not obvious to the math and science -minded people?" he asked, squeezing her hand.

"Of course," she replied, and sat down next to Joe, reaching for the paper.

Joe didn't miss the wince she made as she stretched, how she bit her lip from making a noise, and he was on alert at once. "Cal? You okay?" he asked, quietly.

"Fine," she replied quickly to him. "Okay- where do you want me to start?"

"Uh- do colors mean something?" Joe asked.

"Always. The blue curtain never means the blue curtain," she replied and she laughed slightly when she saw the strange looks that everyone gave her. "Okay. Clearly this isn't your thing," she replied. "What colors?"

"Red, Orange, Yellow, Green," Fenton replied, studying Callie. He could tell that she was in some discomfort, but decided not to press the issue.

Callie gave a small laugh. "I mean, obviously, those are the first colors of the rainbow," she pointed out. When she looked up, her mouth fell open slightly. "Tell me you saw that," she stated.

"No," Frank replied honestly. "I see it now, but I hadn't actually thought of it."

"Glad I could help," she said with a small smile. "As far as everything else- hmm. Well, red can mean a lot of things- passion, anger, for example. Orange is more unusual and doesn't have great literary significance, but it's usually associated with vibrancy; heat. Yellow can either mean happiness and warmth or fear, as in "yellow belly" or cowardice; Green is usually connected to nature, or can be associated with desire or envy."

"Hmmm," Fenton replied, and Collig added his own, "a ha."

Callie smiled weakly again. "None of you understand or care about any of this, do you?"

"Not at all," Joe answered, and kissed her on the cheek. "But maybe it'll help. Thanks, sis."

"So does it help you at this point or you don't know?" she asked.

"No idea," Joe admitted, "but we'll think about it."

"Want me to look at the messages?" she asked quietly.

"Definitely," Frank replied, encouragingly. Callie was incredibly smart and he was always proud of her. She'd gotten her degree at Cornell after leaving California as quickly as she possibly could after college to be near him. They'd managed to complete their degrees at the same time right before they'd gotten married. Even if she couldn't help further, the fact that she appeared to be having even a little fun with this made him happy, because reading poetry to him was like solving equations to her- it just didn't compute.

"Okay. Sure," she added, and stared at the paper intently for several minutes. She started mouthing the words quietly and then, all of a sudden, started moving her fingers. Finally, she nodded.

"See anything?" Joe asked. "And were you counting on your fingers?" he teased.

"Hush!" Callie replied. "Math patterns confuse me. BUT-" she went on. "This doesn't. Look-" she pointed at the paper and showed it to the men gathered there. "If you put the lines underneath each other, divide by the slashes, it's 14 lines. So that's obvious."

"What is?" Collig asked, blankly.

"Oh," Callie replied sheepishly. "I thought you'd know. Any 14 line poem is a sonnet, and this one has a very specific pattern- ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. It's also written in iambic pentameter, which is ten syllables per line, with an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable. That's why I was counting. The last two lines are a couplet, which usually emphasizes the meaning of the poem- provides a point of clarity or raises a larger issue. And the only person who uses that particular rhyme scheme consistently is none other than William Shakespeare. So there you have it- Cotnig just sent you a Shakespearean sonnet."

Joe's mouth fell open, and Collig sat forward as Fenton stared at Callie.

"Wow," Frank managed, his mind reeling. "I had no idea. Great job, baby," he said to her.

"And all these years I thought you were just a dumb blonde," Joe added at last, in awe of what Callie had seen that had eluded them all to this point.

"Takes one to know one, right?" she replied, rolling her eyes.

"That was great, Cal- really," he said sincerely. "Thank you. You've actually given us a lot to look into."

Callie smiled, but remained studying the poem. "Don't forget that couplet," she cautioned them. "He's saying the time to be avenged is now. So he's planning something, I'm sure." She looked up. "I need to think more about this," she went on. "Would you mind if I kept a copy of it? Something is bothering me and I may need some distraction." Her voice broke slightly.

"Go ahead, by all means," Collig answered.

"Thanks. Frank- can I see you a minute?" she asked, and, when Frank nodded, she bid everyone else good bye.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You were amazing," Frank said to her when they were alone in a separate room.

"Thanks," she replied, a pale smile on her face, and then she put her hands on both sides of his waist and rested her head against his chest for a minute.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, concerned.

When she looked up, her eyes had tears in them. "No," she said slowly. "I… I'm spotting again- it just started a few hours ago. And I'm really crampy. I've been feeling this way for a few weeks now, but I hadn't started spotting until now. It's not too bad yet, but it's definitely happening- I think I may need to go to the doctor. I…" she closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. "I think this could be the early stages of a miscarriage."

"What?" Frank asked, aghast, feeling the color drain from his face. "Are you sure?" he asked, voice tight. Callie had had an awful pregnancy last time starting in the fifth month, but, by the grace of God, she had made it through, and so had JJ. But she was right- at barely 16 weeks, it was probably too early for symptoms of Placenta Previa, and she had been having a hard time gaining weight, and had gotten pregnant again very soon after JJ, which her doctor had warned her against. But her pregnancy had been a miracle for so many reasons. For _so_ many reasons...

They'd both known the possibility had existed, but she had been doing so well...

Callie nodded. If she started to cry now, she didn't know if she could stop. She looked into Frank's eyes, and, in them, saw the deep pain and sorrow she felt in her own heart.

Frank's lips trembled a bit. He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her forehead. "Okay," he choked out.

"And JJ's pulling at his ear," she went on numbly. "That usually means ear infection. He had a wellness visit scheduled for today anyway, so I think I might take him there first and then, you know, go to see Dr. Schultz. I already called. I have an appointment for 4:00."

"I'll go with you," he managed. "Of course."

She loved him. She loved him so much for not crying right now, for not starting the flood that could drown them both, for standing strong, as always, when she needed him to.

"I'll go now," she said in a low voice. "JJ's appointment is at 2:15. They just switched the wellness visit for a sick one. I'll ask your mom to go with me instead of Van. She's having a bad day- she's tired and nauseated again. She should rest. I called my parents and they're meeting us at the pediatrician's office, too. I'll be back in time to drop JJ off and then, we'll… we'll go and see."

"I can take JJ," he whispered.

"No- let me," she replied in a low voice. "I don't really want to be apart from him now. If this is going to happen, it'll happen," she replied. "I can't do anything to prevent it." Her voice sounded odd to her own ears, clinical and detached. She felt herself snapping back to her defense mechanism for survival, born when IT had happened, years ago: compartmentalize. Breathe. Be prepared to bury pain so deep it could never resurface. Go through the motions- so at the end of the day, no matter how great the pain, the loss, the fear, the ruin- you will have accomplished something.

He understood. She knew he would, without ever having to ask. No matter the outcome, she knew that later she would have his arms as sanctuary, that he would protect her; not let her fall apart; keep her safe.

"Okay," he said stoically. "Whatever you need."

"Work on the case. Distract yourself. I mean- it could be a false alarm, right?" she asked, lying.

"Sure it could," he replied, lying back.

"You'll tell the others?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he replied evenly. "Sure."

"I'd better go get JJ- your mom is waiting," she went on. "And one of the officers will take us. I'll call you and let you know how he is and when we're on the way back."

Frank nodded and, simply, stroked her cheek, looked into her eyes.

Then, she was gone.

He looked after her, completely numb, unable to think. Then, slowly, he made his way back to his dad, brother, and Collig, going through the motions, because he had to. For himself.

For Callie.


	23. Chapter 23

**Note** : _As always, I sincerely thank those of you who take a moment to leave a review, as I appreciate each one very much. Thank you to hbndgirl, ulstergirl, max 2013, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, Paulina Ann, and BMSH for your reviews since the last chapter!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 23

Joe looked up as Frank returned to the room, and saw how pale Frank was. "What's the matter?" he asked immediately.

"Are you okay, son?" Fenton asked, standing immediately. Collig looked at him with concern as well.

"Callie and mom are taking JJ to the doctor. He probably has an ear infection. Vanessa's resting," Frank responded dully.

"Is it a BAD ear infection?" Fenton asked, at a loss. "He looked okay when I saw him before. Is that what's bothering you?"

Frank cleared his throat. The words were almost too painful to utter, and he felt his voice catch several times. "No," he said quietly. "I have to leave in a couple of hours. I have to go with Callie to the doctor. She's having… some issues…."

"What kind of issues?" Joe asked, worried for the answer.

Frank looked up weakly. "She's bleeding and cramping. She may be miscarrying."

Joe gasped; felt his heart stop. No- no, not Callie. He turned and walked out of the room, knowing he had to control his reaction and fight the tears before he walked back in.

Collig looked down and Fenton walked to Frank and put an arm around him. "I'm sorry," he said, his own voice trembling. "How bad is it?"

Frank shrugged, not trusting himself with words.

"Okay," Fenton said, and squeezed his shoulders. "Mom and I will be here for you and for Callie. Anything you need," he replied. He slowly moved away.

Collig walked over as well, feeling like an intruder on this intensely personal moment. Even though he had known Frank since he was born, looked at him and Joe as sons, he felt as if he shouldn't be here as the news was being revealed. Still…

"Frank?" he said gently, cuffing him on the back of the neck.

Frank looked up, more numb than anything else.

"Son," he said gently, "My wife had three miscarriages before we had our family. And every one of them hurt like hell. I won't pretend they didn't. I know better than anyone that words mean squat right now, but know this- you need to concentrate on your wife and baby, and realize that you have family and friends who love you and who will help you through this time. Including me."

Frank almost lost it right then and there. Collig was his dad's best friend, but he was as tough as they came and almost never revealed his softer side. In fact, he pushed and pushed both him and Joe to up their game always, but he was also, literally, on the sidelines during their games and for every important family event. His sons were like cousins. Still, Collig was as stoic as they came, only occasionally letting his guard down, and, when he did, it was almost always with Joe, who he knew Collig had a huge soft spot for, though he rode him mercilessly.

Frank nodded. "Thanks, Chief," he whispered, and Collig enveloped him in a big hug as he met Fenton's eyes over Frank's shoulders. Fenton nodded gratefully. Ezra was as good a man as they came.

"Okay," Frank said shakily. "I guess we should continue on with the case."

"What?" No, son," Fenton started, but Frank held up a hand to silence him.

"Please, dad," he said at last. "If I don't have something to think about, I'll go crazy. _Please_."

"Okay," Fenton replied, uncertainly. He didn't know if HE could concentrate, much less Frank. His poor son. Poor Callie. Hadn't they been through enough? But whatever Frank needed, he was going to give him.

Joe walked into the room and stood silently next to Frank. He saw that Frank was trying so hard to be calm, and his heart was breaking again for his brother, and, more, for Callie. Instinctively, he put his arm around Frank, who, he noticed, didn't try to move away.

"Frank was just saying that he wants to continue on with the case," Fenton said, maintaining voice control. "So I think that's a good idea."

"Sure thing," Joe agreed, trying still not to cry. He had been about to tell Vanessa. But he didn't want to wake her up, as the bad news would be there for her when she awoke. But he knew one thing: as soon as she awoke, he was going to hold her for a long, long time.

"Callie did a great job," Collig began, getting right to business. He could help Frank by allowing him not to think about Callie, and he was planning to do that.

Frank nodded.

"And who the hell knew that Cotnig could cite Shakespeare, right? At least write in Shakespeare's form," Joe added. "But I guess WHY is the question."

There was a knock on the front door, and Collig said, "I'll get it. It's my officer. Hang on."

He returned a few minutes later with a few papers. "Nothing new on her records," he said, referring to Gatnova's files. "She's been under the radar in the last few years. Works a minimum wage job at a camera shop, but barely works. That means she's probably still in porn or prostitution or drugs," Collig said matter -of- factly. "But she's located in Brooklyn, so it's a hell of a ride to get to Bayport and not be obvious about it. Something's up."

"Can I see the reports?" Joe asked, finally removing his arm from around Frank. He felt Frank get a little steadier, and he was comforted slightly.

"Sure," Collig replied. "Maybe I missed something."

Joe studied the first few pages. Nothing new- Chief Collig was right. And then, when he got to the mugshot, it looked familiar. All at once, it hit him. "What?!" he cried, and he gasped. "No- no no no," he said out loud. "No- this can't be."

"What?" Fenton asked, alarmed.

Joe felt sweat break out on his forehead. "Dad? I need to talk to Pat."

Collig looked at him dubiously. "Well, it's your lucky day, then," he replied, "Because Officer Merkel just switched out with Officer Reynolds and should be arriving any minute. I'll tell him to come in immediately."

"What's the matter, Joe?" Frank asked, forced to deal with the case by Joe's reaction.

"Pat," was all Joe replied. He felt sick. This didn't make any sense.

Pat Merkel came strolling through the door a few minutes later. When Joe saw him looking so serious, he would have laughed normally, knowing how Pat put on this false facade of deep concern whenever he was around Collig, and, away from Collig, he was the guy who was up for almost anything and who flipped people off and cursed them out when they drove crazily. But this was no time to joke.

Pat shook hands with Fenton and Frank quickly, and nodded at Chief Collig. "Hey Joe," he said. "What's up? Chief Collig said you wanted to talk to me."

"I do," Joe said seriously. "I'm going to show you a picture and I need you to tell me if you recognize this girl. Don't think. Just answer, okay?"

Pat shrugged. "Easy enough," he replied, and took the picture from Joe. At first, he said nothing, and then, all of a sudden, he looked at Joe, curiously. "Yeah. Isn't that a picture of that girl from Brooklyn? What was her name- Trina or something? Why do you have that?"

Joe felt sick to his stomach; felt his heart start to pound in his chest.

"What's wrong?" Frank asked, worried.

" _Oh, God,"_ Joe said quietly _. **"** Cotnig is connected to Grant_. **"**

"What?!" Frank asked. "Come on, Joe. No way. That's ridiculous."

"I don't know what you guys are referring to," Pat said steadily, "But I can confirm that I was with Joe and helping him investigate the Grant case, and we did see that girl. She's Horatio Daniels's girlfriend."

"What? Who?" Fenton asked, completely confused. Collig looked equally perplexed. Joe couldn't read Frank's expression.

Joe turned to everyone, but kept his eyes on his brother. "A few days ago, we got some information on Grant. I was able to track down his former address in Brooklyn where he had stayed with his cousin Horatio, who agreed to talk to me. Pat came along for help- it was his day off-" Joe quickly added, seeing how Collig was trying to piece together why his officer was helping on a case, "and he went. He pretended to be Frank and I was myself- we just wanted to get some answers to see if there was a history of Grant being crazy." It hurt to say the words, the wounds with Frank still raw.

"Go on," Frank said quietly.

Pat picked up the story, knowing why this was so hard for Joe to say, and what a rift it had caused between the brothers. "Horatio and his girlfriend concocted some story. They said that Roy Grant had come up from Louisiana when he was 16 and had stayed with them, and they were all really poor. Roy apparently worked at theater jobs and didn't get a role in the play that Jack Johnson was producing for John Gellers. They claimed that Roy met Jack Johnson and made an… arrangement."

"What kind of arrangement?" Frank asked, directly, trying with every fiber of his being to remain calm and steady. His life was falling apart right now, but he couldn't go back to his fight with Joe. They had agreed-it was done. Still, the whole thing was fresh and painful. Johnny remained headline news, allegation after allegation… then he knew.

"You mean that Johnny was involved in a sex scandal? That's how you got the video," he said, flatly. "And the girl in the video was the girl who broke into the office. And the voice on the tape was Johnny's. I see."

"I don't understand this at all," Fenton admitted. "Other than the fact that the girl broke into the office, and the fact that she knew Roy Grant, what's the connection? I still don't see it."

Frank gasped. It came to him as an epiphany. "Wait a minute. The cousin was Horatio- _Daniels?"_ he asked.

"Yeah," Joe said. "Why?"

Frank closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Any connection to Bill Daniels, the guy in jail- the head writer for _Criminal_ _Hunters_? Cotnig's half -brother?" This couldn't be real.

"Oh my god," Joe said. "I didn't even get a chance to look at that angle. I didn't even think about it."

"Then how does Roy Grant fit in?" Fenton asked. "You said he's a … cousin… of Daniels? I mean, what do you know about his background- Grant's, that is? Because if he's related to Daniels, then he must be, in some weird way, connected to Cotnig? Is Horatio Bill Daniels's son- and, if so- then is he Cotnig's nephew?"

Joe rubbed his temples. "Let me think," he said. "Pat and I didn't find out too much info. I know he went from foster home to foster home. His mother died when he was a child, and he moved from the system in New York to the system in Louisiana before moving back up here."

"She committed suicide by taking pills and drowning in a bathtub. Joe and I thought it was weirdly like that character from _Hamlet_ \- Hamlet's girlfriend, who drowned," Pat said.

"Ophelia," Frank replied absently, trying to make sense of everything.

"Yeah- her," Pat validated. "There was no information on the father, but I told Joe that that is not unusual in cases like this. He took his mother's last name."

Frank felt a headache start to form. This was too much to deal with on top of… everything. Still, he had to try. "Okay. I think I might be able to find out some info. I did a little digging on my own. Hang on." He left the room and retrieved his laptop, where Phil had neatly placed the file of info. "I'm going to need a few minutes," he said.

Joe looked over his shoulder, both impressed and horrified by Frank's ability to keep a promise. He hadn't been kidding when he had said multiple times that he would challenge him step by step. Frank would have been a formidable enemy; he took a moment to be grateful that it hadn't come to that.

"Holy shit," Joe whispered as he saw what Frank was looking at at the same time Frank did. "Phil found that?" he asked, in awe.

"Yeah," Frank replied dully. "So Roy Grant took his mother's name- but his real last name is Daniels."

"What?" Fenton asked. "Are you saying that Roy Grant and Horatio Daniels are... _brothers_... not cousins?!"

"It looks that way," Frank said, scrutinizing all of the files pulled up on his screen.

"Ugh- that's disgusting," Pat cut in, scrunching his nose in disdain. "The guy did pornos with his brother and his brother's girlfriend? That's even worse than a cousin." He shuddered.

Joe spoke. "Yeah, but Horatio didn't have the obsession with his mother that Roy did. Horatio may have had a different mother, or was raised solely by Daniels. And that's probably why Roy got into Shakespeare, especially _Hamlet._ The brother named Horatio. Maybe the ROY stands for "royal" or something- Hamlet was a prince. The whole story is-"

Frank closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "The whole story is about obsession with a mother, avenging a father, and, in a sense, having brother against brother. At least that's what Roy Grant said to me when I saw him in jail."

Joe felt unsteady as realization dawned on him. "You were right," he whispered, unable to find his voice. "Frank, I'm so sorry. He wasn't crazy. He played me." Joe felt dizzy. When had his instinct ever failed him? He'd grown to rely on it, to trust himself. If he couldn't do that- god, what did he have?

Frank knew instinctively what Joe was thinking. "Joe, breathe," he said calmly. "You were spot on with your instincts about almost everything else. You made a mistake; it happens. The guy was convincing. I'm not 'logical' 100% of the time; you can't always be right instinctively."

Joe nodded, grateful beyond words for his relationship with his brother. But he felt sick, still. His instincts had failed him, almost broke his relationship with his brother and family. He felt ashamed and embarrassed and completely unsettled.

Frank placed a hand comfortingly on his back."Not now, Joe," he said in a low voice. "Please work with me here."

Joe met Frank's eyes, and refocused at once. Yes, he had much to think about, but Frank was going through so much worse. "Sorry," he managed, and Frank gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"So let's say that Grant was sane," Fenton interjected. "And that he's Daniels's brother. What else do we know?"

"I mean, he probably killed Johnson for revenge for not getting the part in the play, but if Cotnig is his uncle, then there's more to it," Pat replied.

Frank was still thinking and synthesizing information from the screen. "According to an anonymous online blog that Phil somehow tracked down, there was a point at which Roy Grant was 'going off' about his father. It looks as if Daniels didn't know about Roy until later in life-that they were related- but Roy did a background search and tried to contact him when he was a teenager. He wanted to be an actor, but probably hated his dad for abandoning his mom. So he was using Daniels to pull strings to get him an acting job."

"This is messed up," Pat exclaimed. "So he contacts his father, and what's the connection to Cotnig?"

"Well," Frank postulated, "I guess Daniels could only do so much. He was pitching the idea for _Criminal Hunters_ only 4 or so years ago, so he hadn't quite made it yet. I would assume that since Daniels and Cotnig spoke often, as we know, that Daniels sent either Roy or Horatio or both to Cotnig. He certainly seemed to have a lot of connections, and he could survive on his own, unnoticed for years. He probably spoke to the boys and then… and then Cotnig decided that he could use the boys to his advantage when the plan didn't work to kill dad and Chief Collig last time."

Joe exhaled loudly. "So now we need to figure out what that plan was," he replied at last. "And what this has to do with us, specifically, and with John. Because I know he's innocent, and all of this nonsense has to connect."

Fenton leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, thinking.

Frank spoke up again. "Okay, so let's use what we know. Let's say Cotnig helped out. Maybe...hmmm."

"What?" Pat asked.

"I'm still thinking," Frank admitted. "But what we do know is that Roy and Horatio, probably at the prompting of Cotnig, somehow ended up doing porn-probably to earn extra money. The work records that Phil got suggest that Roy worked in menial jobs- probably with his father and Horatio- in little theaters in New York. And that's how, I assume, they claim to have met Jack and Johnny."

"Yup," Joe agreed.

"So maybe Cotnig suggested that he could funnel the kids, who were poor, additional cash if they could complete some missions for him- like spying on all of us- and breaking in," Fenton contemplated.

"But Daniels is in jail!" Collig pointed out.

"So?" Joe asked. "Most of this happened before last March. And by then, Roy and Horatio were working more with Cotnig, I assume, than with Daniels, although I bet if we got visitor logs from the jail, we would find some familiar names," he finished bitterly.

"I'll make some calls to verify that," Collig replied, and immediately picked up his phone to text.

"So Johnny knew Bill- THAT I know," Frank said quietly. "And that means that Bill may have known Jack. I think he did. What do we do with that info?"

"I'm not sure," Joe said, steadily. "Here's what we don't know. How did Cotnig get Frank's records? How did he know about what kind of formula JJ took? Who attacked me in the parking lot and got Callie's brakes to fail- was it that same person? Why did the guy who attacked me hold up a #3 with his fingers? How did Johnny's voice get on that tape? God, there are so many questions."

"One at a time," Fenton replied thoughtfully.

"I know- I KNOW," Frank emphasized, "that Johnny is innocent. So let's start there." He stood and paced slowly, hands behind his back. "Wouldn't it be possible for Roy, Horatio, and Trina to all get involved in porn ring to make cash on the side to work their way up- cash for sex with directors, etc.? The acting business is a dirty one- Johnny always said so. He hated phoniness and materialism, and he'd occasionally mention the sordid sides of the business. So couldn't they have made a video and … ?"

"Yes!" Joe responded. "The video wasn't found in some secret location. It wasn't at Johnny's homes in L.A. or Malibu; it wasn't at Jack Johnson's, either." He, too, stood up. "That girl- Trina- worked at a camera shop. She'd know how to 'borrow' equipment, so it would be professional- just not at Jack's professional level. And Horatio was really accommodating- eager, even- to speak to me. He invited me to his apartment, knowing I was coming- and- what do you know? Trina is there. And THEY bring up the video, which Roy had alluded to in jail. Yeah- yeah, this was a setup." He breathed deeply. How had he not seen that?

"They said there was more than one video," Pat pointed out.

"It's a lie. I'll bet my life on it. Chief," Joe turned to him, "Can you pull a few strings- maybe contact the DA, and see if we can get a search warrant for Horatio's apartment? I'll bet there's nothing there."

"It's out of my jurisdiction," Collig replied, "but I'm on it." He excused himself to make a few phone calls.

"Do you have the copy of the video?" Frank asked. "I'd like to see it again. I barely saw anything at the courthouse." He avoided Joe's eyes.

"Officially, no, we do not," Pat replied. "Unofficially, now that Chief Collig is not in the room, _hell yeah_ we made a copy."

Fenton sighed. "Pat, you and my boys have rather unconventional ways of doing things."

"You won't rat me out, sir, will you?" he asked.

"No," Fenton replied. "In fact, I have absolutely no knowledge of this conversation."

"What conversation?" Pat asked innocently.

"Exactly," Fenton replied.

"Pat?" Frank asked, motioning for him to hurry up.

"I uploaded it to a secret server. Can I borrow your laptop for a minute? And hurry up, pal, because I don't feel like getting my ass fired."

Fenton rolled his eyes. It always amused him how language seemed to change depending on the company.

Frank nodded and hit "play" when the upload was complete. He dulled the sound so that Collig couldn't hear. Pat, Joe, and Fenton gathered around.

"This is a little awkward to view with my sons," Fenton replied, blushing, as the graphic images came into view.

"Ew- dad, gross," Joe replied. "I hope you never look at this stuff. Ugh! Besides, if you're looking for these kinds of videos, there're much better quality ones around…" he joked.

"Joseph!" Fenton bellowed, red, as Joe and Pat started laughing.

"Guys, shhh!" Frank cut in. "Stop. I'm trying to hear something." He closed his eyes. There it was- Johnny's voice. " _Yes, baby. Just like that. Keep going_." He stopped it. Replayed it. He repeated the process several times.

Finally, Frank sat back, raised a hand to his forehead, and smiled.

In shock, Joe stared at him. Frank was going through hell right now- and he was smiling?

"What? Why are you smiling?" he asked, directly.

'Because that saying is from a Made for TV movie that Johnny had a minor part in back in college," Frank said, exhausted with relief. "And it's taken completely out of context. He was playing a young father and encouraging his 'wife' not to give up on her dream of running a marathon despite having a disability. I only know about the movie because Callie was so excited- it was one of Johnny's first tv roles."

"A famous one?" Pat asked.

Frank gave a tight smile as the memories came back to him. Callie snuggled into his side, watching this movie, Johnny on Face time, entertaining her questions afterwards… it was a simpler time. A good time.

"Oh, god- no. It was awful," Frank answered. "Even Johnny said so. But it was a start for him, and Callie thought he had practically won an Academy Award- she was so thrilled for him. But the point is- guys, this was a voice over. Johnny never saw that video. He never knew anyone other than Bill Daniels and Jack Johnson. And Johnson isn't on any of these tapes, either- I'm sure of it- if there is even more than one, which I doubt. Horatio and Roy, at Cotnig's direction, made it seem like their story was legitimate by using stolen video equipment and a voice over. Daniels would have had Johnny's resume and would have known about that really minor role. I think we just cleared Johnny's name."

"Thank god," Fenton replied.

Frank felt momentary relief. Thank god was right. "The damage may be done, but I'll work to undo it. And Johnny never would have been ashamed of being gay- he just wanted his private life to be private. But now that it IS out, maybe Callie and I and Don can work to raise money or awareness for gay rights. I don't know. Whatever she wants to do- it's totally up to Callie."

"And I'll help," Joe responded.

"Me, too," Pat added.

"We ALL will," Fenton concurred.

"Let's see about a few more loose ends," Joe went on, emotions all over the place. He was incredibly confused about his mistake with Roy, heartbroken over Callie, relieved about Johnny, aching for Frank, and determined to solve the missing pieces of this mystery, and to get Cotnig at last.

"How did the press even find out so quickly about Johnny?" Fenton asked.

"Oh, the same way they found out the first time that Johnny had died," Frank replied, quieter. 'Daniels has connections to the Press. There's no reason that would stop in jail- again, visitor and phone logs would cover that. If he was working with Cotnig, the whole thing would have been planned.

"And how did Grant escape?" Fenton asked. "What details do we know about the suicide attempt? I believe it was a knife- easy enough to be funneled through the system via Daniels."

"Wait- he tried to kill his own son?" Pat asked.

"No, no," Fenton replied, shaking his head. "You don't understand. Roy was an actor and he probably saw this as his greatest role. He had a rough life. In fact, I'll bet he has a huge juvie record. He wanted to be known for something, and an opportunity to be on a stage, to enact his convictions, he wouldn't pass up. I'm sure Cotnig had him murder Johnson, fake insanity. Even if Joe didn't pursue it, he would have been able to fake out most people."

Joe swallowed, guilty and ashamed again.

"I don't get it," Pat admitted.

Fenton continued. "He's playing a role; getting attention; calling attention to a play which, he believes, speaks to his life. He then slashes his wrists with a knife, similar to Hamlet's demise in a sword fight- a poisoned one, but still, but not enough to really kill himself. He faked unconsciousness and, when he was left alone-only for a few minutes while the doctors were called- he fled. And certainly, while he needs stitches, I'm sure he would know where to go- Cotnig DID have a good friend, as you both well know, a certain doctor- Christopher Tobias- who is in jail as well, but could tell Roy who to see."

Joe sucked in his breath and glanced sidelong at Frank. Tobias had tried to kill Johnny and Callie, and Frank had almost killed him. The name was painful to utter.

Then, realization started to dawn on him as the puzzle pieces began to fit. He had to take several deep breaths, felt Frank's hand on his shoulder.

"What?" Frank asked.

"Frank," he said, directly to him, "This... this whole Grant case- it was a ploy, meant to distract us from the REAL case- Cotnig. To distract us from looking out for Dad and Chief Collig. Jack Johnson died for no reason other than for Cotnig to get US involved. Roy asked for US-he didn't have to do that; the courts probably would have appointed him a psychiatrist anyway. He was baiting US, turning us against each other. Cotnig used him. He knew that we would go to talk to Roy. He knew that you would defend Johnny… and I guess he knew, or THOUGHT, that maybe I wouldn't." He was shaken to the core. It was so obvious.

Frank looked upset as well. "Shame on us," he said quietly. "Lesson learned."

"At what cost?" Joe asked. "The lesson cost us precious time, and god knows what Cotnig has been up to since the start. Damn," he concluded, almost in a whisper.

"You can only go forward," Fenton replied at last, conviction in his voice. "So let's make a final to do list, because the answer is here, and it's revealing itself in stages." He grabbed Frank's computer, flipped to Google docs, and started typing. "Go," he said.

 _Look at the sonnet again. Why the messages? Were they correct?_

 _Look at the colors. Is there any significance?_

 _Did Horatio and Roy have different mothers? Examine backgrounds_

 _Confirm visitor / phone log at jail_

 _Check hospitals/ doctors in area in unlikely event Grant showed up needing stitches_

 _Search warrant on Daniels's apartment?_

 _How did Cotnig get Frank's records- Hacker? Accomplice? Training?_

 _How did he know about what kind of formula JJ took? Same questions as above._

 _Who attacked Joe in the parking lot and held up three fingers? What did that mean?_

 _Who cut Callie's breaks?_

 _Why target Frank, Callie, and JJ- is that even true?_

 _******Where is Cotnig? Has the plan started since the pattern stopped with Gertrude?***_

 _Where is Grant? Daniels? Trina?_

 _Who else, if anyone, could Cotnig be working with other than teens? Doesn't make sense totally._

"Is that it?" he asked, and everyone, including Collig, who had returned, nodded their agreement.

"Let's start at the top after a quick break," Fenton suggested, and left the room with Collig and Pat.

Joe saw at once that Frank was glancing at his watch, presumably waiting to hear from Callie. It was almost 3:00. The look of despair on his brother's face spoke more than any words ever could.

He walked next to his brother and wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder in comfort. No, he didn't need a break. The case did. Above all, Frank and Callie did. This temporary reprieve from his brother's hell was just that- temporary. But he would do anything in his power to make it last, to delay the inevitable.

Frank was the strongest person he knew, but everyone had a breaking point. And he sensed that his brother was damned close to his.


	24. Chapter 24

**Note** : _There is a lot going on in this chapter as a huge part of the mystery is solved (and brand new issues emerge!). Hope you enjoy it. As always, thank you for the support and the feedback. I would like to thank the following people who were so kind to leave reviews since the last chapter: Snow Princess88, ulstergirl, hbndgirl, Red Hardy, max 2013, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, Caranath, Paulina Ann, Guest, hlahabibty, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, and BMSH. I sincerely appreciate every one of your comments- you truly make my day._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 24

Laura Hardy sat in the backseat of the police cruiser, behind Officer Watts, while Callie sat opposite her and JJ was in the middle, sleeping in his carseat. When Callie had told her what was happening, she felt her heart break over what could be the loss of her grandchild and the utter shock and despair in Callie's eyes. How she had the wherewithal to keep her emotions in check, to actually go to the appointment for JJ when she, herself, was suffering heartache and physical pain, was beyond her comprehension.

Laura kept one hand on JJs leg, wanting desperately to hold Callie's hand or to hug her, but she saw that Callie needed her space right now, as if a physical touch would break her, force her to give into her emotions and crumble. She could certainly respect that, though her heart broke for her strong, kind, intelligent, and brave-very brave-daughter- in- law. Frank had certainly met his match, and they adored each other, loved each other deeply. She felt a pang of guilt for her conversation with Vanessa the other night, realizing now that she had been out of line.

She looked at Callie, and she fought tears. She loved Callie very much, but she had always sensed that, as with Frank, still waters did run deep. Callie was as generous and sweet a person as she had ever known, but there was something about her, a slightly guarded nature, even with those closest to her, the smallest bit of holding back, that had always intrigued her. She had a quiet strength about her, a desire to let others take the spotlight, and she had the feeling that there was much more to this special young woman than met the eye.

When Joe had met Vanessa, Laura had fallen in love with her right away. She had an infectious smile and laughter; she was silly and fun; but she was also incredibly smart, kind, and a great listener. With Vanessa, as with Joe, what you saw was what you got. Neither was afraid to be openly demonstrative and to show emotion. Frank, her wonderful, strong, thoughtful older boy, who loved deeply and silently; who kept his heart hidden, whereas Joe wore it on his sleeve, had become the rock of the family in his own way. And Callie, she was starting to see, was HIS anchor. And she had to admit- both Vanessa and especially Joe loved Callie so much- there WAS something about her that suggested a whole other side to her, one that she let few people really see. She adored both couples, and could not have picked better partners for her sons. But- dear God- how much more would they all have to go through? How much pain could people go through before their cups overflowed?

"Sweetheart? How are you feeling?" she asked, deeply concerned.

Callie turned to her, her eyes almost deadened. "I'll be okay, Laura. Thank you," she said quietly.

Unable to resist any longer, Laura reached over and held Callie's hand, which, after a moment, Callie squeezed back with the palest of smiles. "I love you, honey," she said, sincerely. "Your strength amazes me."

"I have to be strong," Callie replied in a low voice. "There's no other choice."

"Are you in much pain?" she asked, rubbing her hand.

Callie stared ahead, numbly. "My back hurts," she admitted at last. "I'm starting to get pretty bad cramps. I can feel...the spotting is a little heavier than before. I just want to get JJ to the doctor and make sure he's okay. Then- you know- whatever is meant to be." Her voice faded out. _Meant to be? How could life be so cruel. What did I ever do to make this 'meant to be'?_

She felt the panic start to set in, but closed her eyes. Breathe. Compartmentalize. Bury the pain….

Laura went to respond when, all of a sudden, there was a loud crash as a large vehicle plummeted right into the passenger side back seat of the patrol car. Laura felt herself slammed against the side door and start to black out as the car spun endlessly. She momentarily heard Callie screaming and JJ crying. And then, after a few moments as she started to regain consciousness, she heard the most terrifying sound of all… absolute silence.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank checked his watch again and Joe said, simply, "Relax. They're not that late."

Frank nodded. Joe was right. He had expected to hear from Callie by now, but the pediatrician's office ran notoriously behind schedule and often cell phone reception was sparse. Besides, if it ran that late, he could always go to Callie's doctor and meet her there, and just have his mom take JJ back here. There was still time. Besides, he had to admit, he didn't really want to go, knowing what was inevitably waiting for him. But of course he would be there; he and Callie were a team, and he had to be there to hold her, to comfort her, to be the life raft when she was drowning, even if he could barely stay afloat, himself.

Fenton, Pat, and Chief Collig re-entered the room, and Pat gave Frank a bottle of water, which he gratefully accepted.

"Ready to get some more answers, boys?" Fenton asked, and Joe and Frank nodded.

"The sooner we can answer a few things, the more quickly we can hopefully get to Cotnig," Collig answered. "So where do we start? We're much further ahead than we were a few hours ago. I'm working on the search warrant for Horatio Daniels's apartment, and I have calls in about the phone and visitor logs with Daniels, David Cotnig, and Dr. Christopher Tobias. Thus far, there have been no sightings of Grant at area hospitals, either, so the assumption that Tobias probably set him up with someone is probably accurate. At least Annunziata is dead," he grumbled. "And maybe the others will keep their asses in jail this time."

"They're in maximum security," Fenton reminded him. "And we know they're alive this time, so that helps- no mysterious fires."

Joe sat up straighter. Something was bothering him. "Wait a minute," he said slowly. "That's what we were missing last time. Cotnig- all of them- were presumed dead when their bodies didn't show up in that fire, but they weren't dead, obviously. What if- what if we're missing something obvious like that again?" he asked.

"Like what?" Pat questioned. "Wait. Do you mean in the original facility? To check on the people who were left-you don't think that anyone escaped, do you? Because hell- people don't just break out of prisons, normally. It's just not that easy to do."

"It IS a start, though," Fenton replied. "Frank, can you get Phil to run records on all of the inmates who were originally imprisoned with Cotnig and the others prior to the fire? There were a few hundred, and most, if not all of them, should still be there. It shouldn't be all that hard to find."

Frank gave a small smile. "Dad, this isn't _Criminal Minds._ Information doesn't appear that quickly in the real world."

"Then tell Phil to pull a Penelope Garcia and to make it happen, eh?" Fenton pressed with a small wink.

Frank let out a small breath. "I'll call him. Excuse me. I'll be right back."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank stopped in the kitchen after getting off the phone with Phil, who essentially mirrored his own statement to his father but who promised to get right on it. He was about to return when he caught sight of Vanessa, who was looking around, confused.

"Hey," she said to him with a smile. "Have you seen Callie or Joe or your mom? I feel like people must think I have cooties or something because everyone seems to have disappeared.

Frank weakly grinned. "Cooties, Vanessa?" he asked. "How are you feeling? Callie said you were under the weather."

"I was," she admitted, "but a good sleep and a full 24 hours after eating spicy tacos- I seem to have made a miraculous recovery." She laughed, then became more serious. "Joe said that he was hoping to talk to you today," she began cautiously, eyes hopeful.

"Yeah, we talked," Frank said quietly, feeling as if their 'talk' had been a lifetime ago instead of a the few brief hours before his world had turned upside-down. He rubbed her shoulder gently. "It's okay. We worked it out."

"I'm glad," Vanessa managed, eyes bright with tears. "I'm REALLY glad."

"Me, too," he answered briefly.

"Are you okay?" she asked, noting his pained expression despite the news he had just given.

Frank sighed. "Have a seat," he ushered her. "I have to tell you something." He filled her in on everything, from the case, to JJ, to, finally, Callie's situation. He had to stay in control, though it was getting harder to do. Still, it was easier to rip off the band aid than to peel it off slowly, and if he could make Joe's life a little easier to do it now, then so be it.

"Oh, god, Frank," Vanessa sobbed. "Oh, no. No... not Callie."

Frank could only nod. "Now go and rest and take care of your baby," his voice cracked, and he looked away for a moment before making eye contact again. Vanessa held onto his arm. "I'll send Joe to you as soon as we're done talking."

Vanessa wiped back tears. "I was supposed to go with her to the wellness visit," Vanessa replied, shakily, "even though JJ's sick. You know what I mean," she stammered.

"I know," Frank whispered.

"I feel awful,"Vanessa answered. "They called to confirm last week and the receptionist asked who would be accompanying her. I guess they like to know if parents are together or something," she rambled. "And now that feels like so long ago. Oh, Frank. I'm so sorry."

"Thank you," he managed, and pulled Vanessa into a tight hug. He held her just a little longer than he would have normally, needing comfort from someone else who loved his family so much. When he pulled back, he repeated, "Go. Joe will be up soon." He kissed her cheek.

Vanessa turned slowly, heart aching, and touched her stomach, so grateful for the little life that was thriving, changing her forever, and so despondent that her sister must be feeling so empty, in so very many ways. She should be with her now, as she was supposed to have been.

"I love you, Callie," she said to herself as she made her way slowly back up the stairs, pausing only to glance back at Frank. "I'm going to pray for a miracle for you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Did you explain how to build a computer to Phil?" Pat joked, noting Frank's prolonged absence.

"He's working on it," Frank replied, not taking the bait.

Pat shrugged as Fenton started taking out the messages again so they could examine them one last time.

Joe glanced at Frank, curiously, and Frank whispered, "I saw Vanessa and I told her about everything. She's waiting for you when we're done here."

Joe ached for his brother. Frank didn't have to say anything at all to Vanessa, given the circumstances, but he had- and that's why Frank was… well, Frank, the consummate older brother. Joe rubbed his back and nodded his thanks.

"How much information did Phil get on Roy Grant's background that Joe and Pat weren't able to get?" Fenton asked.

Frank shrugged. "I didn't even know we were looking for anything like what we discovered today. Let me look again." He opened his laptop and again stared intently into it. After several minutes, during which Fenton and Collig spoke quietly, and Pat spoke with Joe, he stopped. "Well, we know his father was Daniels," Frank said slowly, "and that his mother killed herself. Hmmm."

"What?" Joe asked.

"This is weird," Frank replied, furrowing his brows. "He was in three different foster homes from the time he was three until he was sixteen. It looks like he was sent to the first one by an aunt- his mother's sister- who couldn't take care of him when his own mother died. So I guess, like we said before, Daniels never knew about Roy until years later when he moved back up. But-it seems as if there were no consistent educational records… whoa," Frank said, and stopped.

"Yes?" Fenton asked, curious.

"It says here that his first foster mother died when he was only nine in a car accident. Then, when he was placed in the second home, his foster mother there died of cancer when he was twelve. And the last one- she was murdered." Frank looked up. "If there was ever a cause for mommy issues, that's it. Roy probably spent years hating his father for not providing for him and sending him away. And I bet he was obsessed with his mother and yet hated her too for abandoning him. And WOW!" Frank exclaimed, still reading the file in front of him. "His last foster mother's murderer was never found. And guess what her name is?" he asked, excitedly. "Gertrude!"

"Uh…" Joe said, drawing a blank. "What does Aunt Gertrude have to do with this?"

"No- not Aunt Gertrude! Hamlet's mother's name is Gertrude," Frank answered automatically. "And he was obsessed with her and hated her - a lot of people think he was attracted to her." After seeing Joe and Pat's horrified looks, he changed the subject. "That what's called an Oedipus Complex. Anyway- so we have ROY - r _oyal,_ maybe- who ends up with a brother named Horatio and a foster mother named Gertrude. That's a freaking weird coincidence."

"But enough to make him latch onto _Hamlet_ ," Pat replied.

"True," Frank said with a nod.

"And Horatio's story?" Fenton asked.

"Well, Phil didn't pull any info on him, since I didn't know he existed," Frank admitted. "Joe? Pat?"

Joe shrugged. "He's poor. His mother died,too, and Daniels appears to have raised him- at least through when he dropped out of school at 16. I guess that's when Uncle Alan pulled some strings and got him the apartment. Horatio and Roy are half brothers, like Cotnig and Daniels."

"Hell of a family tree," Pat muttered.

Frank's computer started beeping and he pressed the accept button, seeing that Phil was trying to Facetime him. Phil waved at everyone. When he saw Fenton and Collig, he almost didn't say anything, but then began, "So…. you'll never guess what information fell off the back of a truck today," he said.

Collig smiled and Fenton laughed. "Don't worry, Phil. These records are all available, and we appreciate you simply expediting our access to them," Fenton replied. He liked Phil a lot- he was probably the most responsible of his sons' friends, and was witty and brilliant. He was also pretty good for keeping Frank reasonably on the straight and narrow… though, like Frank, Fenton had a sneaking suspicion that Phil was a little more badass than goody two shoes- just not quite on Frank's level of closeted wildness. He just had decided a long time ago not to think about it, but, in moments like these, when Phil just hacked an entire federal prison system's computer network, he had to wonder…

"Go ahead, Garcia," Joe teased.

"Listen, Joey, if I'm Garcia, you'd damn well better be my Derek Morgan, and, quite frankly, you're just not that good looking, pal," Phil quipped.

Joe and Pat burst out laughing and Fenton and Collig smiled. Frank couldn't manage one anymore. "What did you find out?" he asked.

"It actually wasn't that hard to do- _find,_ " he corrected quickly. "Everyone is left from that fire who I could get a read on, primarily because they're still in jail."

"That's good," Collig admitted.

"Except for two," Phil cut in. "There was another guy, a… Robert Fitzhenry… who was released early on parole for good behavior. But when he was ultimately ordered to report to his parole officer, guess what? Poof-gone. He hasn't been heard from in at least five years. And guess what his last job was?"

"I couldn't," Joe replied, exasperated with the damned complexity of the case.

"Auto mechanic. So there's the Callie brake connection and the crowbar for you," Phil said, bluntly.

"And he was in prison for what?" Frank asked, drained.

"Bank robberies," Phil replied. "So weird. I also found out some info that he has a son- a kid- 16, who supposedly lived with him for a while. His name is Jordan- same last name."

"For once," Pat muttered.

"Yes," Phil responded, "and he lives with his mom now- supposedly never sees the dad, since the dad is nowhere to be found. But HE had a juvie record for simple assault and carjacking."

"Nice," Collig replied. He was so sick of dealing with these low-life degenerates.

"Who's the next guy?" Frank asked wearily.

"Now THIS is where it gets interesting. Most of the inmates were there for the hard crimes. But a few were in there for white collar crime. And there was a guy named Todd Rangers who was a really smart hacker- very good. But when he was imprisoned, there was some sort of gang violence and he got in with a nasty crowd- his cellmate was a guy named Christopher Tobias. I know you know him," Phil went on. "Rangers gets off on a technicality and had his sentence overturned, and gets off scot free. He lives in update NY-but hmmm- he seems to have disappeared about six, eight months ago. In March- after-you know, everything happened the last time."

Fenton felt his head start to hurt. "So-this hacker could infiltrate medical records, and it would be easy enough to get to Frank and even to JJs records." This wasn't good at all.

"Indeed," Phil answered.

"Thanks, man," Joe said. "We appreciate your help."

"Hope it helps," Phil answered, and bid adieu to everyone.

"You know, Fenton, we put both of those men in that facility," Collig said, evenly.

"I know it," Fenton replied. "So what is there left to do?"

"Just the sonnet," Joe reminded them. "Let's look once more." He handed out copies to everyone. Callie really had been a tremendous help, had given them a starting point.

"Well, the Shakespeare part is the clear connection to the Grant case," Frank replied. "We know that now."

"Did any of you get the color symbolism stuff?" Joe asked. When he looked at the sea of blank faces, he sighed. Wait. What had Callie said? He gasped. "Holy SHIT!" he said, jumping up. "Callie was right! The colors are the rainbow colors. Rainbow is associated with gay pride, right? So there is another connection to John."

"Maybe," Frank said dubiously.

"No!" Joe said excitedly. "That's not it alone. The pattern-red, orange, yellow, green- over and over. Look! ROY G; ROY G…"

"Roy Grant!" Collig stated in shock. "No f-cking way."

"Chief, your language," Pat couldn't help but say, and Collig glared at him as Pat smiled.

Frank took a deep breath. "That IS crazy," he said quietly."And that's why Callie and I would be targeted. WE had the connection to Johnny; we were the link to both Dad and Roy, in addition to what JJ would mean to dad." He shook his head as the realization came to him.

Where WAS Callie? It was almost 3:45. Callie was really late, and he knew he'd have to call her in a minute. Pushing the thought aside, he scrutinized the poem. "Okay," he said evenly. "The guy is about patterns. Are we missing ANYTHING? The meaning of each line; the colors; the pattern- we have that now. Is there anything we don't see?" he repeated. He looked at the sonnet:

 _Though precious moments do head your way now_

 _This time I will say that they will not last._

 _Be so vigilant; do not ask for how_

 _Madness fleeting really remains a mask._

 _Yet will you question why I act so frank?_

 _There eventually you will bother._

 _Is cause for revenge enough? For some, thanks,_

 _Method dying? Not so for your father._

 _In fact, in due time, the young and bright sun_

 _It your guiding star, will finally die out_

 _The time and the pattern for me have been fun_

 _Plays and works converge; detectives will doubt._

 _The lives of detective, family, friend_

 _Things done in the past will now be avenged._

He rearranged the lines as Callie had suggested. And then he saw it… and his eyes grew wide.

"Oh, God," he said. "ABCDEFG-" that's Cotnig's pattern and the general rhyme scheme is repeated; in patterns again."

"Okay," Joe nodded. "Clever enough, but..."

"Joe, don't you see it?" Frank asked, horrified by the madman he was dealing with. "This is the absolute connection to the cases. Cotnig sent these, but look at the first word of each line and put them together:' _Though this be madness, yet there is method in it. The play's the thing."_ Dear God! He was playing us the whole freaking time! That's not only right from _Hamlet_ , but it's also the key to everything. Johnny; Jack; Horatio- the PLAY's the THING. And Grant was faking insanity- madness- but there was method in it- a reason- and method acting."

The room was silent as the weight of the message loomed in the air.

Joe started at it again. Frank was right. But...

"There's more!" Joe exclaimed, in disbelief. "The second words of each line make an additional message: _Precious time so fleeting, will eventually cause dying; FACT- your time and lives done…"_

"Oh my god," Fenton managed.

At almost the exact same time, Collig's phone and Frank's phone started ringing. Relieved, Frank walked out of the room and picked it up. "Cal? Where are you?" he asked. "Honey, we're going to be late."

He heard a small sob on the other end. "Frank?"

At once, he stiffened. It wasn't Callie; he hadn't looked closely at the number; it was her mom. "Frank, this is Melissa. Honey, we've been waiting at the pediatrician's office for almost two hours. Have you heard from Callie? We're worried sick."

Frank felt the color drain from his face. "What?" he managed. "She- JJ-my mom- never got there?"

"No," his mother -in -law sniffled. "And she's not answering her cell phone and neither is your mom. Do you think...maybe she got worse and they had to go to the hospital instead of the pediatrician?" Her voice held a heartbreaking pleading note to it.

He could barely breathe. "I don't think so. She always calls. I'm on it. I'll call you ASAP the minute I know." He couldn't tell her not to worry; the words would simply not come. He hung up the phone.

Collig and Fenton came running out of the room, Joe and Pat at their heels. "Frank," Fenton said, voice trembling, "we need to go now. There's been an accident."


	25. Chapter 25

**Note** : _FYI- I had absolutely no intention of writing this chapter the way in which it turned out. I had two endings, one happy and one tragic, both of which were written out, and then somehow I ended up with what happens here. The muses demanded that I write it this way and as many times as I tried to change it, I couldn't. I hope you can indulge me this digression, which is purposefully ambiguous and will remain unresolved for a while. After this chapter, there are seven to go, and much of the rest of the story is action -packed as the chase begins. Thanks to everyone who took time to leave a review since the last chapter, as every review makes me think and really motivates me to keep going! Thanks to Red Hardy, ulstergirl, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, Hero 76, Penlew, Caranath, BMSH, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, max 2013, and Paulina Ann for your feedback!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 25

"She's not going to make it."

Frank looked at the room across from him and knew it was time to say goodbye. Vanessa and Fenton had come and gone. Callie's parents had just left; Joe had never come, so grief stricken he had gotten sick. He had apologized or tried to apologize through wracking sobs, but he didn't have to. Frank really did understand what it would do to Joe to watch her die.

It was just him now, as it had been from the start. His love; his soul; his precious wife. She was only 27, just like him, but their almost 13 years together had been a lifetime. Long ago, he had stopped asking himself WHY things happened as they did. Prior to this case, Callie had been healthy and strong and had been in a hospital only twice for very minor injuries. Except for THAT. No- he would not go back there. He COULD not go back there.

He had just about convinced himself that his life was perfectly normal; that his job would never endanger his loved ones, when this case had arisen in March, and had changed his life forever. Then this unrelentingly agonizing year had happened, when her life had been turned upside down and she had experienced more heartache and pain than a person should go through in a lifetime.

Somehow, this was his fault. Again. He should have stopped Cotnig the first time. He should have been with her this time. And, long ago... He felt his stomach lurch; he fell to his knees. He had vowed to love her and to protect her with his life, and he had failed miserably. It should have been him, not her. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.

He couldn't move, could not will himself to enter the room.

He remembered every detail with the same intensity that he knew he would soon forget it willfully. The accident that had been no accident at all. The huge Hummer that had plowed into the police cruiser with the intent to kill had met its mark. And it had to have been driven by … one of those people connected to Cotnig… he could not even think of their names right now. He- or they- had gotten away, presumably with no harm done, like the drunk driver who walks away from the fatality he caused. The puzzles; the cases; the codes; the stages of conviction they had revealed… they meant nothing now.

The officer who had been driving was badly hurt, but would recover. Laura had been sobbing as she was taken here, with a concussion and whiplash to serve as a reminder. And, by some miracle that could not be explained, his son had been spared. JJ had come away with no more than the ear infection he had left with… because his mother had given her life for him, protected him from the magnitude of the impact by using her body as a shield. He would not think now about what could have happened to JJ; he didn't know if he would _ever_ be able to think about it. His amazing and perfect son was going to lose his mommy today, and Frank wished to god he could just go with her. But he couldn't. He owed it to her to raise his baby with all of her conviction and passion.

And his other baby was still inside her, somehow holding on, going to go to sleep with its mother- together. That was a little miracle in all of this; she hadn't miscarried yet. _She wouldn't be alone._ He felt his chin and hands trembling at the thought. His heart would have been shattered if he could have felt anything at all. But there was only nothing, an emptiness so profound it could never be filled again.

The blood loss was severe; her internal injuries too many even to count. On top of the Placenta Previa, she'd experienced a placental abruption: her placenta partially detached from the wall of her uterus which caused severe bleeding and shock. She already was anemic. It was the perfect storm, a survivable crash- maybe- had she not been pregnant. She'd been rushed into emergency surgery, but the hemorrhaging had been so bad that it had grown of control, and the doctor had told him that her chances of survival were less than 10%. She would not make it through the night.

How fickle life was. How strange and cruel it could be. This morning, he had made love to his wife. This evening, he would hold her as she died. He couldn't process the profundity of it.

He managed to stand.

Finally, he felt his feet move him forward, something propelling him into the room. He'd been here before, but never with this utter lack of hope. How could he say goodbye? How could he part with his own soul?

Mechanically, he sat next to her on the bed, ignoring the coldness of the room, the lifeless machines giving her life, at least for a little bit more. He reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, his shaking hands just managing to find pictures he always carried with him: their wedding photo; JJ's first day home. He slipped the pictures into her hand and closed it around them. He touched her stomach, bid goodbye to his child, whom he loved so much already.

Then, he wrapped her in his arms. There was nothing else he could do. He would not let her go alone.

He let the tears fall, but could not sob. He told her that he loved her, that he was sorry he could not keep her safe.

"Our father, who art in heaven," he heard his lips whisper.

He continued like that unconsciously. _I love you. I'm sorry. Our father. I love you. I'm sorry. Our father._

And he felt her heartbeat, some inexplicable warmth that comforted him.

He waited.

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Joe stood outside the NICU and held Vanessa as they cried in each other's arms. He was shaking. It couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He couldn't lose his sister. He loved her.

And if he lost his sister, he'd lose his brother; that he knew.

He choked on the guilt he felt: that he hadn't been able to solve the case quickly enough, that though he was dying inside from Callie's inevitable loss, he was also so relieved that Vanessa hadn't been in that car. She always sat in the back with Callie exactly where Callie had been sitting; had she not been sick, she would have gone with Callie. Hadn't she told him that the pediatrician's office had wanted to know who would be accompanying Callie to the office? They never asked that. Cotnig again.

And Vanessa had been the target, though Callie had received the impact.

God, would have lost her. How could he have lived?

Now, instead, Callie would die. And he'd almost lost JJ. And his mother had been hurt. He screamed inside. WHY-WHY- WHY was this happening to his family?

He looked into the NICU as he clung to his near hysterical wife. It hurt like hell, but he was grateful that he _could_ feel. And he would make good on his promise to Johnny from the original case, the promise he had just made to Callie, silently-this was his game now to win or lose. And he had no intention of losing. He would get Cotnig and Grant, now, if it was the last thing he did. That was a promise. And he never broke a promise.

He would wait no longer.

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Ezra Collig hugged Fenton tightly, no longer Police Chief and internationally known private investigator, but two old friends, united in suffering.

"Thanks," Fenton said, stepping back. His eyes were fighting tears.

"Fen," Collig stated, "I'm going after him. Now. I will not wait another second more, and I will pull every string in the damned book to get as much help as possible. This mother f-cker just crossed every conceivable line. Stay with Laura and the boys. They'll need you."

Fenton took ragged breaths, fury filling his veins. "I'm going with you, Ezra," he said, deadly calm. "He wants me, he can have me. But he cannot take any more from my family. He's already taken too much- and revenge will not be enough. I'm ready."

"You're certain?" Ezra asked.

"I am," Fenton replied. "It is the bare minimum I can do for Laura, Joe and Vanessa, JJ, Frank- and Callie," he choked out.

Ezra nodded. He didn't need further explanation. They set out together, knowing they would return victorious.

Or not at all.

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It wasn't at all what she thought it would be like. It was watching life reveal itself in stages, small slices: with an interest, a detachment, a curiosity. She wasn't afraid. If anything, it was peaceful and calming, a total equity between understanding and acceptance.

 _Stage 1._ She looked down and watched the aftermath of the accident. There had been a terrible, excruciating pain… and then this. She remembered the impact, remembered how her last conscious thought had been to protect Jonathan Joseph, so she had, shielding him with her body as the Hummer slammed into them. She hovered, saw Laura Hardy sobbing, clutching the baby. She smiled slightly. He was okay, she knew that now. That was all that mattered. It was odd, watching the police officer crawling next to her, seeing the EMTs struggling to revive her body, barely clinging to life, an impartial, casual observer to her own dying process.

 _Stage 2_ : The hospital. She saw them all- they were all there. It unfolded in slow motion, each scene more tragic than the next. If she had been present to witness it in person, it would have killed her anyway. But now, it was watching a play performed, and she was in the audience, alone, distant. Fenton Hardy breaking down as he finally spoke with his wife, holding her close. Her parents, zombies, devoid of emotion; lifeless. Vanessa screaming. She moved her eyes. She watched Joe cry as he looked after JJ in the NICU and, for the first time, she felt a zap, a buzz, something inexplicable. She reached out her hand and touched JJ's head, watched him open his eyes. He saw her, and she kissed him goodbye, lighter than air. Her greatest contribution to this world in a perfect, beautiful package. Again, that buzz, even stronger, came to her, and she took a breath. At least, she thought she did. Who knew. Frank, white as a ghost, so numb he couldn't feel a thing. She wrapped her arms around him to no avail, and the buzzing became horribly painful… she had to leave.

 _Stage 3:_ She was somewhere else altogether, a place she did not recognize, a room of some sort. She was in no hurry; she was not frightened. She was just… there. She waited.

 _Stage 4_ : She felt them pass by her. Her grandparents, her Aunt Janice, her little dog, Maxie. She hadn't seen any of them in a long, long time. They touched her, they did not touch her, but their warmth, their love, surrounded her and she felt them more than anything. How amazing. It would have brought tears to her eyes if she was capable of crying, but she was not. And that was okay.

 _Stage 5_ : She gasped. Iola almost floated towards her, more pure and spectacular than she could ever have imagined. And she could talk. And she was real.

"Callie," she intoned, her eyes bright and glorious, a smile on her face. "Hey girl."

Then her voice came back to her. "Iola?" she managed, though her voice somehow sounded perfectly normal. "You're here."

Iola touched her face. "And so are you," she answered. "You'll understand soon why."

And she remained there, stroking Callie's hair, compassion and understanding in her eyes. Callie couldn't ask anything more; somehow didn't need to. Iola's presence was enough.

 _Stage 6:_

"Sweetheart!"

She looked up and her heart soared.

"Johnny!" she whispered.

She knew that she was both standing still and running to him at the same time, both weighted down and light as the breeze. She threw herself into his arms, and he was the only person who felt wholly real and present. He held onto her tightly and then kissed her lips so tenderly that well from deep within threatened to break through, but stayed at bay. It was completely chaste, but completely love.

"Johnny," she repeated, looking into his deep green eyes. There was so much to say and ask him and think about, but nothing came. He kept his arms around her, and suddenly that was all that mattered. She couldn't ask many questions; could only respond briefly. But she trusted him.

"You named your precious boy after me," he said, kissing her head as she leaned against his chest. "How marvelous. Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded. "I promised you that my son would know his Uncle Johnny."

"I heard," he said. "I can hear when you talk to me."

"You can?" she asked, and then she felt Iola come up from behind her, sensed the presence of her hand on her back.

"I can, too," Iola said. "Thank you for visiting me so much. It's so lovely to be remembered."

"You know each other, then," Callie replied, accepting it as fact.

"We've met," Iola answered, smiling.

"You both look so beautiful," Callie added.

"You see us as you choose to," Iola said gently. "You recognize the best of us; our hearts; our being. There is nothing else here, but we have come in a form that you'd recognize to soothe you so you wouldn't be scared."

"I know you must be mildly curious about where we are," Johnny added, rubbing her back.

"I never thought heaven would be like this," she responded, and was shocked when Iola and Johnny laughed.

"Oh, sweetheart, no. No, this isn't heaven," Johnny said gently. "It's a bit of a waiting area that some people get to visit to make a very important decision."

Callie looked at up at him, curious, still felt Iola's hand on her back. "Have you been there?" Callie asked. "What's it like?"

"It's like that feeling of falling in love, magnified to infinity," Iola responded with a smile.

"It's as if you took all the pain that you experienced in the physical world, my love, and you experienced so much, and flipped that same intensity to joy- that may be a fraction of a percent, a grain of sand in the universe. It's inexplicably beautiful," Johnny answered, voice wistful, eyes full of love.

"Then why aren't you there?" Callie queried, still unable really to feel, to cry, to think.

"We were called to visit," Iola answered. "To explain to you what you need to know."

"How much time do you have?" Callie asked.

Johnny smiled and kissed her lips again. 'Time is a man-made construct, honey. It means nothing here. You cannot race against eternity."

"What do I need to know?" she asked.

Johnny pulled her closer, and she felt Iola's arms around her from behind. "It's very simple, honey. You need to go home. You can't stay here. But you need to determine _which_ home."

"Look," he said, and gently tilted her head to the left. She saw JJ and Frank, and started buzzing again, off center.

"Don't be scared," Iola said gently. "You will feel no pain here; I swear it."

"Honey," Johnny said, "the choice is solely yours. You come with me and I'll lead you to beauty beyond comprehension, or you can return to terrible pain."

Callie looked at him curiously. "You make it seem like an obvious choice."

"Oh, but it's not," Johnny countered. "You've suffered, Callie, and it won't end right away. I won't lie to you, honey- it could take a long time to get better- in the earthly realm, it could be weeks, months, years even before you wake, start to heal, and you may never be the same. Yet, in that earthly realm, you have such beauty, such love surrounding you. Do you know why you have that jolting feeling when you look at some people? It's because one day your soul will be whole again, reunited with its mates. Soulmates are real, Callie. And you can have more than one; just in different degrees."

"I don't understand," she managed.

Johnny took her hand and placed it on his chest. At once, she felt a warmth spread through her. "You are one of mine," he told her, tenderly."Our souls are connected, and I won't be whole again until you are back here. But I have others. And so do you."

"John-"

"The biggest piece of your soul has always belonged to Frank. The universe meant for that to be. Think of the depth of love you have for each other-it is rare and it is special," he went on. "And a little part of your soul belongs with Joe. You are connected by so much- your love for Frank…"

"And for me," Iola cut in.

"And your children will also have a part of your soul. They will be great people."

Callie looked down. "My son…" she whispered.

"And your daughter," John said, matter-of-factly.

"What?" Callie asked, confused.

"The life inside you," Iola answered. "Your precious little girl."

Callie remembered. Why couldn't she cry? "I was having a girl?" she asked, wishing she could FEEL everything she _should_ be feeling now.

" _Are_ having, if you go back," Johnny corrected. He looked at her with affection and deep love. "Your little one will have a fighting chance if you return. I don't know if she will be chosen to stay with you or she'll be called back home, here, but you'd give her life, one way or another. Your babies are gifts, sweetheart. You understand what I mean." He spoke to her soul with insider knowledge.

Yes. Indeed she did know.

"And Frank will be restored fully, if you go back," Iola went on. "His sorrow is strangling him now. He loves you with a passion that's so intense that he would be irreparably altered by your death. But he could survive, Callie. He is strong. And he would raise your son with courage and grace. But your souls would cry for each other until you're reunited. That's the thing about soul mates; they're connected in a way deeper than thought and feeling; an invisible rope that binds."

"And though Frank's soul is with JJ- and with Joe, his other mate- you must know that he would be empty inside, never fully himself again, for the rest of his life. Time, sweetheart- I told you- it means nothing _here_ , but it's very long _there_ ," Johnny added.

Iola gazed at her warmly. "When Joe visits me, I will feel more complete, because he was a part of my soul, and I love him. But his much larger soul mate is Vanessa. See, in the end, we all become part of each other. It's a mystery you'll understand one day, be that now or later."

Callie looked to the left, saw Frank and JJ, her heart and her soul. She saw her broken and battered body, flinching at the sight. She gazed to the right, saw Iola's warm smile. She glanced up into Johnny's gorgeous face, his reassuring smile, his eyes filled with love.

The time had come to choose.


	26. Chapter 26

**Note** : _Thank you to everyone who has been so kind to follow this story. You are always so supportive! Many thanks to those of you who left reviews since the last chapter, which I greatly appreciate: TinDog, Moon in Scorpio, hbndgirl, Erin Jordan, ulstergirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, Paulina Ann, sm2003495, hlahabibty, BMSH, BeeBee18, Caranath, and max 2013. Hope you enjoy.._.

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 26

"I'll miss you so much," Callie said to Iola and Johnny, her conviction crystal clear. "I wish I could cry now, because my heart wants to ache. I'll remember everything you said."

"You won't remember a thing," Iola said kindly. "You must know that. You'll have absolutely no recollection of us, of this time. You're in a void now, and may be for a long time. But this is real, Callie. This time and this choice is a gift that most do not receive."

Callie turned around and hugged the suddenly tangible Iola tightly. "I will remember _you_ and love you forever," she said, and Iola smiled and kissed her cheek.

"I know," Iola responded. "One day we'll talk about all of this- but not for a long time- if destiny will have it that way. Your purpose on Earth is not yet done. You are forever my best friend." She smiled. "You won't know you're doing this, but your relationship with Joe helps him heal from my death, and your connection to the both of us helps to keep me alive in some sense. I'm watching over him and my family. And you are always in my heart."

Callie nodded, and turned back to John. "And you…" she replied, still wishing she could feel more, not be so distant, "you are the second greatest love of my life, my darling Johnny. I love you with every breath I take."

"The numbness is for your protection," he replied to her unasked question. He held her hand to his chest again, and she felt the warmth; the light; the safety. She kissed him goodbye.

"You will have a guardian angel over you for the rest of your earthly life," he told her. "Are you ready, sweetheart?" he asked, holding her close in his arms.

She nodded, and, suddenly, felt images speed up, felt herself sucked through a vortex of time. For the briefest moment, she could see.

When she landed, gasping as oxygen rushed to her lungs, she felt not Johnny's arms, but Frank's, clinging to her; deep brown eyes, not green ones, red with tears for her; a soft, gentle voice, not a strong, outspoken one, whispering words of love and uttering prayers to a god she didn't even know he believed in. And even when the pain almost crushed her, and it did, it was okay.

Because the warmth she felt throughout her whole body as her soul found its home was more beautiful than she could have imagined. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, and she could not think, but it didn't matter: with him, she was safe.

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Joe watched as Biff Hooper strode towards him in the hospital lobby. He walked to him and found himself enveloped in a tight hug. After a few minutes, he slowly pulled away.

Biff's eyes were watery and his expression was pained. "God, Joe- I'm so sorry, bro."

"Thanks," he responded, choked up.

"Is she- I mean, did it-" Biff started, searching for words.

"Not yet," Joe answered in a shaky voice. "Frank's with her now."

Biff nodded. "How long?" he asked quietly.

"Probably tonight," Joe replied. His words sounded hollow to his ears.

Biff looked down and started fidgeting with his watch. "There's always a chance, man. What do they say? Where there's life, there's hope, and-"

"I can't, Biff. Please. I can't think about it now," Joe answered, his heart actually aching. He felt miserable he hadn't been able to see Callie, guilty as hell. He should have gone.

He looked at Biff. Maybe he _would_ go.

"How's the baby and your mom?" Biff asked.

"JJs fine. And my mom has whiplash and a concussion. Biff, I can't do this," Joe responded, voice cracking. "I should see her."

"Then go," Biff nodded. "I'm here. And I won't leave til you tell me you're ready."

Joe nodded and slowly turned around. He felt a coldness come over him as he walked mindlessly to the NICU. He had to see her; he would never forgive himself if he didn't. Just for a moment. And he had to bring her something.

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Ten minutes later, having left Vanessa behind, filling out paperwork, and explaining the situation, he found himself accompanied by the NICU nurse to Callie's room. There, she handed JJ to him as she stayed outside and he held JJ close, no longer wearing the brace, no longer caring how much it hurt his collarbone. The physical pain was nothing compared to his emotional angst right now. JJ was restless, tired, and cranky, as if he knew something was wrong. Joe kissed his head several times in comfort.

Joe found Frank holding Callie, eyes closed. And Callie looking absolutely perfect, except for an angry bruise on her pallid forehead. She was so pale, her breathing so shallow. But beautiful. Angelic.

"Mamamamama," JJ started to cry.

"Shhhh, it's okay," Joe repeated as he watched Frank open his eyes. He walked to his brother. "I thought maybe JJ should come down for a few minutes," he said, simply. The pain in Frank's eyes actually hurt him.

Frank looked numbly at Joe and managed a small smile. _Yes. JJ should be here._

"Thank you for thinking _for_ me, Joe," he said in quiet voice. "I… I can't… I don't…"

"I know," Joe responded, keeping everything- his words, actions, mannerisms- simple, uncomplicated. He knew Frank needed that. "Do you want to hold him?" he asked, as JJ continued to cry for his mother.

Frank nodded, sitting up. Joe noticed that he looked physically pained to release Callie, but he managed a small smile. "Of course. Yeah. Come here, Jonathan," he said, raising his hands.

Joe handed JJ to him, surprised to hear the baby called by his full first name. Maybe Callie and Frank called him that at home? Then, he got it. _Jonathan_. A reminder that Callie would be protected, one way or another. His eyes burned; he felt tears fall.

"Mama, dada," JJ continued to mutter, though he looked more settled, more at peace in Frank's arms.

Frank held JJ in front of him, his son; his life. Had it not been for Callie, he wouldn't have had this moment to have looked in his baby's eyes again. As he looked at him, JJ seemed to calm further.

Frank held him to his chest and kissed him, drawing strength from him.

Joe felt his heart breaking. How Frank could be so strong here was beyond him.

"Mommy's here, Jonathan," he said in a low voice. "Give mommy a kiss." He pursed his lips. "Kiss." He held JJ near Callie and JJ nuzzled her cheek, kissed her chin.

"Mamamama," JJ continued to garble.

Frank slipped one arm around Callie again and allowed JJ to snuggle into her side, wedged between them, and he quieted almost at once.

Joe walked over to the other side of the bed, unable to stop crying. He sat down on the chair next to the bed and placed his hand on top of Callie's. He was shocked when Frank reached over and covered his own hand reassuringly, forming a tiny circle of abundant love: Frank holding Callie, holding JJ, holding him.

There was some warmth that he felt all of a sudden, and he looked up, met Frank's eyes- he knew he felt it, too.

"Mama! Mama!" JJ started grabbing for her.

And, barely perceptibly, Joe could have sworn that Callie moved her other hand a fraction of an inch towards her son. It was over before it started, but Joe looked at his brother, and knew he'd felt it, too.

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Joe returned to the lobby an hour later, and Biff was there, exactly as he had promised to be.

"How'd it go?" he asked, hesitantly.

"I… I think okay," he answered in disbelief. "She… her numbers started turning around."

Biff looked at him curiously. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Joe conceded.

"Are you saying- will she be okay?" Biff asked, hesitant.

"I don't know," Joe repeated, stunned. "She's hurt so badly, and she's so sick. I think the doctors are shocked she's made it this far."

"Is she awake?" he asked.

"No," Joe said in a low voice. "No- not at all. She may never wake up." He looked at Biff, still having a hard time reigning in his emotions. "I'm scared to hope."

Biff put a comforting arm around him. "Don't be," he said quietly. "Hope is never bad." Seeing how distraught Joe was, he changed the subject. "So how can I help? What can I do?"

Joe got serious. He wouldn't deal with his pain now; there would plenty of time for that later. "I need you to come with me to find Grant. Dad and Collig are gone- they're going right for Cotnig; I'd bet my life on it."

"What about the Horatio guy and the others?" Biff queried.

"You know about them?" Joe asked, surprised.

Biff gave a small laugh. "Yeah, man. Of course I do. Pat's been on standby all day and he says he's gonna help, too. Chet and Tony offered to come, but I told them to hold back for now. Same with Phil. I saw Andrea- she's with Vanessa now and they're going to see the Shaws. They're going to stay with your mom, too. It's good, you know. They have each other."

"Good," he managed.

"So who are we dealing with?"

Joe took a deep breath, again grateful for his amazing friends who stood by him when he could barely stand, himself. "Alan Cotnig and Roy Grant- that's all I care about."

"But-" Biff began. "Who else? Think."

"Horatio Daniels. Catrina Katnova. Todd Rangers, hacker. And bank robber Robert Fitzhenry," he rattled off.

"Okay- will one lead to another?" Biff asked. "You don't know where anyone is, other than Daniels and Katnova- or where they _were_ ," he corrected.

"You're right," Joe admitted. "So maybe we start there."

"I'll call Pat," Biff replied, matter -of -factly. "Are you ready?"

"Are they?" Joe asked, deadly calm.

Biff squeezed Joe's shoulder and met his eyes. It was time.

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Less than two hours later, Joe, Biff, and Pat pulled up to Horatio Daniels's apartment complex.

"Did the warrant come through?" Pat asked idly as he adjusted his gun, which he carried with him at all times, even when off duty.

"Who gives a shit?" Biff asked, getting out out the car and stretching his 6'5" frame.

"Well, Collig, any number of law enforcement agencies, the judge," Pat answered dryly.

Joe exited the car and turned to his two friends. "Listen, guys- I don't want you do anything you're not comfortable with. This is my fight; this guy is the link to _my_ family. I appreciate you coming with me, but-"

"Oh, shut it, Hardy," Pat replied, good -naturedly. "I like a good break- in and beat down as much as the next guy, especially when I'm not in uniform."

"Someone messes with you, they mess with me," Biff added. "The only person who gets to kick your ass is me."

"Possibly Vanessa," Pat added with a chuckle.

Joe found himself smiling. He knew that today would be one of the worst days of his life if Callie died, but he couldn't think of that now. All he had was his rage, his determination… and his friends. It was enough.

"I feel like something is going to happen," Joe said quietly as they made their way into the apartment building. Then, he had to stop. Something was wrong.

"What's the matter?" Biff asked, concerned.

"Nothing," Joe replied. "Come on. Let's go," he said gruffly. As they got closer to the apartment, Joe felt palpitations. _I was wrong before. What if I'm wrong now?_ For the first time in his life, he started doubting his instincts. He heard Frank's voice in the back of his mind, telling him that he couldn't be right 100% of the time with his gut feelings. He saw Grant citing Shakespeare, remembered how he had felt so SURE that Grant was crazy. He couldn't remember the last time that his instincts had led him astray, and, now that they had, he felt more than a little lost, afraid that he was about to lead his friends into a dangerous encounter in which they could get hurt or killed.

"Stay here," Joe said at the end of the hallway. "Wait for my signal."

"Hell no," Pat replied. "I've done this before, too. I'm with you, pal." He turned to the side. "Biff, you block the stairwell," he said quietly, drawing his gun. "If they run, tackle them."

Biff nodded his assent as Joe and Pat surreptitiously made their way to the front door of the apartment.

Joe looked at Pat, ignoring the sweat on his brow. He hadn't heard anything inside, but that didn't mean that no one was there."On three," he whispered, his own gun drawn. "One. Two. Three."

They kicked in the front door and burst into the apartment. Seeing no one, they split up. "Clear!" Pat yelled from the kitchen as he made he way through each room, on alert.

"Clear!" Joe yelled back as he checked the foyer closet. He made his way to the bedroom. "Cl-" he started to yell, then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement as the curtain rustled against the window."Fire escape!" Joe yelled to Pat as he went to climb out the window.

On the landing, he saw Horatio scrambling two doors down and starting to climb the stairs. "Shit," Joe muttered to himself as he followed. He tried to ignore the fact that they were several stories above street level as he grabbed a rail and leaped, following Horatio. Normally, Joe could have gotten him quickly, but every time he went to hold on and move his right arm, a searing pain cut through his neck and collarbone, and he had to keep sucking in his breath and ignoring the shooting pain as he held on as tightly as he could. He cursed as he realized that Horatio was heading to the roof, but he continued to follow, cursing, sweating, fighting pain. Finally, he made it to the tip of the roof and swung himself over.

As soon as he stood up, though, he felt the wind knocked out of him as someone pushed him from behind. He landed on his arms to break the fall and literally saw stars and felt nauseated as his collarbone bore the impact of his weight. As he struggled to get up, he felt another shove and somehow realized that he was being pushed towards the edge of the roof and he was damned close to it.

Instead of trying to regain his balance, he rolled to the side quickly and felt someone trip over him. It was Horatio. At exactly the same moment, they both realized that Joe's gun had come loose and was sitting in the middle of the rooftop. They both ran, crawled, tripped for it at the same time.

Joe reached it a second before Horatio did, and he managed to both grab it and kick Horatio away from it at the same time.

Finally catching his breath, he regained his balance. The wind was whipping through his hair; it was freezing cold. The radiating pain in his collarbone was making him sick. Still...he aimed his gun right at him.

Horatio looked up and smiled, out of breath. He SMILED.

Joe was filled with fury, his finger cocking the trigger seemingly of its own accord. Horatio wasn't smiling as broadly now.

"You think it's funny, you bastard?" Joe seethed, almost shaking with rage. "We know you lied. There was no sex scandal. There was no real video. You worked with your BROTHER to set us up."

"It worked," Horatio replied, eyes filled with hate. "At least I worked with MY brother. That's more than I can say for you and yours." A mirthless grin appeared on his face.

Joe felt his stomach drop. That much was true. But he would not show his weakness. "Where is your brother?" he demanded.

"Are you gunna kill me?" Horatio asked. "Is that why you wanna know? Cause you ain't never gonna find out."

"Then I might as well shoot you now," Joe answered, needing to hurt someone, anyone, to make them pay for what had happened to his family.

"You don't have the guts," Horatio laughed, but Joe didn't move. He aimed the gun right next to him and fired it.

Horatio jumped, and all color drained from his face.

"Well, I DO have the bullets," Joe answered calmly, "so I'm going to ask you again. Where is your brother?"

Horatio looked up at him, breathing hard. "F-ck you!"

"Don't do it, Joe!" Pat cried out as he raced up to him. "It's not worth it, man."

"See?" Horatio asked, laughing. "Even your friend thinks you're chicken shit."

Joe went to squeeze the trigger as Pat simultaneously shoved him. Joe heard Horatio screaming in pain not 10 seconds later as he got up. He looked down at his hands. He had shot someone. Shot someone to KILL him. AND he had meant it. He could barely process the scene.

Slowly, he looked up as Horatio continued to scream and convulse, but he didn't see blood. He jumped when he felt Pat's hand on his shoulder.

"Whoa!" Pat exclaimed, springing back. "Easy with that!" He reached over and took the gun from Joe's hands.

"I shot him," Joe said quietly, meeting Pat's light brown eyes.

Pat, still taking deep breaths and settling down, shook his head. "No you didn't," he managed.

"But-" Joe began, completely confused.

"I tasered his ass," Pat said simply, finally able to breathe, and gave a small smile.

"You what?" Joe asked, incredulous, his emotions all over the place. He was just coming to terms with the fact that he had killed someone, and now he was being told he hadn't even shot him?!

"I tasered him. Hurts like a bitch. Oh, look-" Pat went on. "If he keeps up like that," he noted Horatio squirming and moaning on the ground, "he might need round two."

Joe shook his head in disbelief and, getting his bearings, walked slowly to where Horatio lay, almost convulsing, but very much alive.

"I pulled the trigger," Joe said, turning to Pat. " I know I did."

"Good thing your aim sucks," Pat said with a small laugh.

Joe chuckled. "Pat, you're an idiot. You try to pull the trigger when someone is tackling you. "

"Listen, Hothead Hardy, if you would have shot him, your ass would be behind bars right now. Next time think of a damned plan before you go after a criminal. Jesus," he muttered.

"You're right," Joe admitted after a minute. "Thanks, man." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Wait- a taser? Shit, Pat. You're gonna get jammed up when the powers that be realize you used a police taser against someone off duty."

"Again, PLAN," Pat replied with an easy grin. "That was Biff's taser."

"What?! Biff has a taser? Since when?" Joe asked, dumbfounded.

"Since about an hour ago. Remember when we stopped at Walmart on the way into the city so Biff could use the facilities?" Pat asked, laughing.

"You can buy a taser at freaking Walmart?!"*Joe asked. "Are you kidding?"

"Save money. Live better," Pat answered. Then he laughed. "That was good luck, huh?"

Joe closed his eyes momentarily. Luck; Walmart; Biff's impulse buy and Pat's timing- that ridiculousness all together is what had saved him from killing a man and ending up in jail. Though, he had to admit, he still felt as if he could do it. That he had wanted to do it.

He sighed. "We didn't get the info," Joe replied despondently as Pat called 9-1-1, requesting a police car and briefly explaining the situation. When he was done, they made their way back to Pat's apartment, dragging the still moaning Horatio with them.

Joe almost jumped when he got there and saw Trina standing in front of Biff, arms held behind her back as she was cursing at him.

"What the hell?" Joe asked as Pat dropped Horatio on the ground next to him and grabbed Trina, throwing cuffs on her as Biff held her arms.

Biff shrugged. "She ran out of the apartment towards the stairwell. I was there. I was able to control her."

Joe rolled his eyes. "She's like 10 inches shorter than you and weighs about 120 pounds. Good job, big guy."

"She was scrappy," Biff replied, glaring at Joe and ignoring Trina's screaming and cursing now that she had noticed Horatio writhing on the floor. "And her language isn't f-cking classy, either, to say the least."

Joe rubbed his temple with his left hand. There were so many things wrong with that last statement it wasn't even worth responding.

They heard sirens in the distance.

An hour later, Trina and Horatio were in custody in the city. Pat had gone with his brothers in blue to try and explain the whole mess, for which Joe was immeasurably grateful. Joe winced as he sat in the passenger seat, his collarbone throbbing. He had texted Vanessa to keep her up to date on their progress… but more to check on Callie. She was still with them. It was overwhelming.

"You okay, Jose?" Biff asked as he slid behind the driver's wheel. "I mean, you did, once again, almost get your ass kicked, get shot, and get thrown off a roof."

"Thank god I didn't have to deal with a scrappy woman," Joe replied sarcastically.

Biff smiled and reached into the glove compartment, pulling out Extra Strength Tylenol and putting it into Joe's left hand. "Walmart sells more than tasers, you know," he said lightly, but with compassion.

Joe gave a small smile and popped the top, swallowing three pills without water.

"That's gross, man," Biff said with a disgusted look on his face.

"Shut up or I'm going to using some f-cking unclassy language on you," Joe replied, a slight glimmer in his eyes despite it all. He leaned against the seat and closed his eyes. "Two down," he said out loud. "Four more to go. Heading back to Bayport?" he asked, exhausted.

"Not if we're gonna get at least one of the two big ones," he answered as he pulled into traffic.

"What do you mean?" Joe asked, surprised.

"That chick cursed a lot, but I used the old Hooper powers of persuasion on her."

"Meaning what?" Joe asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Meaning that when she thought good old Horatio was going to bite the big one, she begged me to make you stop, and I told her I would- if she told me where Grant was."

"What?!" Joe asked, incredulous. "You didn't even know where I was!"

"Yeah, well, she didn't need to know that," Biff answered evenly. "And your boy here did you a solid and got the info you need, so we're on our way. Oh- and I called your dad. He and Collig are going to meet us with some of the NYPD cops. We have to get Shakespeare boy and we will kicketh his asseth."

Joe felt his mouth drop open. He saw Biff wink at him as he started to drive, immediately giving the finger to a crazy driver. Joe looked at him; thought of Pat. He had the best friends in the world who always stepped up to the plate when things counted. He wanted to tell Biff thank you, to remind him again that he was his best friend next to his brother and that he loved him and admired him. So he responded the best he could.

"Thou art a jackass," he said with a smile, and Biff just laughed.

 _*In case you're wondering, yes- you can buy a taser at Walmart! (You know that you're going to look that up! Haha. I swear it's true)*_


	27. Chapter 27

**Note** : _Thank you AGAIN for all of the feedback that you have left for this story. You always make me think, and I look forward to everyone's comments! There are five chapters to go after this one. I'll update on Sunday. Thank you to those of you who left reviews since the last chapter: Red Hardy, sm2003495, ulstergirl, SnowPrincess88, BMSH, EvergreenDreamweaver, max 2013, Red Hardy, Erin Jordan, hbndgirl, BeeBee18, Caranath, Paulina Ann, and Tin Dog._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 27

Vanessa took a deep breath, determined to check on Frank. She knew that the timing would work, since Andrea was visiting Laura and she had JJ, and the Shaws were keeping vigil by Callie's bedside. They had told her that they insisted to Frank that he get some fresh air; get something to eat; rest. They all knew he wouldn't do any of those things, but, out of respect for his in-laws and to give them time alone with Callie, he had left the room and now sat in the empty waiting area outside the ICU, just counting the minutes until he could get back to her.

Vanessa paused as she looked at Frank at distance. He was sitting quietly, hands folded, head down, though he didn't appear to be crying. Her own heart was breaking, the thought of losing Callie incomprehensible. And the look in Joe's eyes when he had heard Callie's prognosis would always stay with her: haunted, frightened, incredulous. She had always known that Joe and Callie shared a special bond, and their story was equally special. As teens, they had resented each other, REALLY disliked each other. Then, it had moved to tolerance, then to acceptance, then to respect. Ultimately, by their early twenties, they had come to like each other, and then, she saw very clearly, to love each other very much, forging their own sibling bond.

As her mind wandered, she had to smile softly. She and Callie had always gotten along pretty well, and they had really gotten close in their late teens. To this day, she considered Callie her dearest friend, and she knew that Callie felt the same. And Joe, of course, was her world: she loved that man, more than she could ever express, as he filled her life with joy each and every day with his sense of humor, compassion, loyalty, and fun nature. He knew how to live each moment IN the moment, how to not stress out unless he really had to, and he had shown her the kind of love she had only dreamed possible. So, it was always a little weird to her that Callie and Joe had their own kind of "inner circle", though she had soon found out why: they both loved deeply and passionately, they both were always laughing and having fun and shared a similar sense of humor, and they both, above all, absolutely adored Frank, and that had bonded them.

She had always felt a little like an outsider, though she had never really told anyone other than Joe that, until this past March when Frank had saved her, and they had been working on their relationship ever since. Slowly, she had seen the sweet, insanely smart, shy Frank start to open up, and she had seen a whole new side to him, because, she had to admit, she had taken the time to look. Frank Hardy, she had started to realize, was all of those things, but he was also subtly funny, genuinely interesting, generous and kind, and, she had to admit, fun. And, to her shock, she had seen a few instances, mostly with Joe, but occasionally with Callie, where Frank could be edgy, a daredevil, more than a little mischievous, all hidden beneath a facade of responsibility, organization, and seriousness. He was complex, but she saw why her husband and Callie loved him so much: because he gave his whole heart, just like Joe did, and was totally authentic and deeply invested in the people he loved. She saw that, and she also saw how happy Joe was that she really was starting to see it. And now it was time to bond again.

She moved slowly into the room and sat across from him, but he didn't look up.

"Frank?" she asked hesitantly. She had no plan, just to be herself, and she hoped it was enough.

He moved his head up slowly and met her eyes. And, to her astonishment, despite his pale face and the dark circles under his red eyes, he managed to give her a small smile. "Hey," he said softly. "How are you doing, Van?"

She felt her heart break. He was aching inside, and he still asked about her. Quietly, she reached for his hand. He held it. "I…" she began, willing herself to hold it together, "am praying hard."

"Couldn't hurt," Frank choked out. He was still trying to smile.

"Joe told me that he brought JJ in to see you," she went on, "and that the baby… he was comforted." It was so hard not to cry and she felt the tears spring to her eyes, which she fought to hold back.

Frank stood up and, to her shock, pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. He kissed her forehead. "You can cry, Van," he said in a trembling voice. "It's okay. Callie knows how much you love her. So do I."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Frank, I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"Me, too," he whispered back.

Then, he pulled back slowly and released her, touching her cheek with his finger. "We're going to be okay, you know," he said, tears in his eyes. "We _will_ be okay, because that's what JJ needs and that's what Callie needs and would want."

She met his eyes, touched, awestruck, by how brave he was being. "How?" she mouthed.

"Because we have no other choice," he replied quietly. "None."

Vanessa nodded. "Yeah…"

"And Van?" Frank went on. "Thank you for coming to check on me. No one knows what to say. There's no right… no wrong. I can't think of what will happen…." he took a deep, shaky breath, "if I lose her." Tears slipped from his eyes, and Vanessa's heart broke. She had never seen him so vulnerable. "So while I have her, I will fight for her. And I will fight for JJ. And for me. And for everyone who loves her… with everything I have. I'll beg her to stay. But if she can't," Frank stopped, as Vanessa sobbed quietly, "then I will let her go and honor her life with my own. I have a little boy, OUR little boy, and she will always live through him."

He took her into his arms again and held her. "It'll be okay," he soothed her. Somehow, he soothed HER.

After a few minutes, he pulled away again and took her hand. He still was managing to hold it together, and she was stunned he could do so. "Let's see her, huh? We have a lot of fighting to do."

Vanessa nodded, kissed his cheek, and squeezed his hand. "We sure do," she agreed, and, in relative silence, they made their way back to Callie's room, hands and hearts clasped together in unity.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You've got to be freaking kidding me," Joe uttered to his father as they met up outside the location given to them by Trina. It was growing late and dark, but there was no mistaking the address.

His father looked up. "The American Shakespeare Theater of New York," he said out loud. "Joe, is this a joke?"

"No joke, sir," Biff replied, answering instead. "This is the address she gave to me, and she was serious."

Ezra Collig shook his head. There were several police cruisers who had now surrounded the building, and he wasn't quite sure what to say to them.

"This is ridiculous," he said at last. "Clearly, this is a fake address."

Joe scrutinized his surroundings, hoping against hope that they hadn't just wasted precious time having been played by a criminal's girlfriend. He hadn't even thought to look up the address when Biff had put it in the GPS and now he felt foolish. Something had been bothering him about the address the whole time they had been driving, though admittedly this wasn't it. He'd seen this address before- but where?

"I swear- I think she was telling the truth," Biff emphasized, somewhat embarrassed himself.

Collig raised a hand to his forehead. This was going to be great to try to explain to his superiors.

"Well, we got somewhere this afternoon, Ezra," Fenton said at last. "And I still can't believe we got what we did."

"I hope that bastard rots in hell," Collig replied. "I don't care if he's a kid."

"What happened?" Biff asked, noticing Joe was still puzzled over something as he gazed at the lit up theater..

Fenton patted Biff on the back. "We got Jordan Fitzhenry, Robert Fitzhenry's son. We had no way of tracking down Cotnig yet, so we went for what we could. It wasn't that hard to track down a Hummer that was smashed to hell," he said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"What?" Biff asked, stunned. "The dude who drove into the car with Callie and your wife and JJ was a KID?" He couldn't believe it.

"Yes," Collig replied, bitterly. "Hummers are relatively rare vehicles, so we pulled every string to track down every dealership in New York that met the description from bystanders on the scene. They said he waited at the intersection for the light and ran full on into the cruiser on purpose- those vehicles are very safe. Bystanders could ID the color and it wasn't hard to go from there. Those trucks are also really expensive, and hmmm- who would have thought that a former bank robber would have had some extra money laying around." He shook his head disdainfully. "The kid has a history of crimes with cars anyway, and was clearly working with his father, who didn't give a crap if his kid got hurt in the process. It's a sad story, but what's sadder is that innocent people got hurt… or worse…" Collig cut out.

"Think you'll be able to get Robert?" Biff asked after a few minutes.

"We have every available agent on it, so yes," Fenton answered. "It shouldn't be long. And once he's down, it's Todd Rangers, Cotnig... and Roy Grant."

Joe walked over to them. He'd been both listening and concentrating at the same time. "Guys," he said, seriously. "I know why this address seemed familiar. I remember it from the files. It's the right street but the wrong number. Just down the avenue is Bill Daniels's old apartment."

"Roy's father," Fenton said, nodding. "Okay. Good work, son. Let's split up. Biff, you go with Chief Collig and two of the additional officers to Daniels's apartment. Joe and I will go with the other two officers into the theater. The plays are over for the night, but we'll check the theater out anyway. Ezra, you can get us in?" It was a statement more than a question.

"In about 10 minutes I can. Let me make some calls." He picked up his radio.

Joe and Fenton met each other's eyes. "We need to get him tonight," Joe said, determined.

"We will," Fenton replied. He looked at Joe. "Where's your brace?" he asked him, as Collig made the calls.

Joe sighed. "Really, dad? You're asking me this now?"

"Are you in pain?" Fenton questioned, ignoring him.

"Stop, dad," Joe answered, embarrassed. "I'm fine."

"Oh, good," Fenton replied. "Because I need my partner to be on full alert and able to focus with no distractions," he said, and then, catching Joe off guard, he gently but forcefully placed his hand right on Joe's shoulder and Joe cried out involuntarily.

"Right, you're fine," Fenton replied, sighing inwardly. He wished Joe would slow down sometimes. Joe was an excellent detective, and he was growing up a lot, but, no matter what, Joe was his son first, and he hated to see him in pain.

"That was low," Joe managed, blinking back tears. It was no comfort at the moment to know that his father would have acted exactly the same way if the injury was Frank's.

"Next time, be honest with your father," he replied. "When we get back to Bayport, before you see your mother, brother, or wife, you will be seen immediately and get that issue addressed, understand?"

"Dad…."

"I asked if you understood."

Joe gritted his teeth. He hated being treated like a kid, even if he knew he deserved it in this case. "Yes."

Before Fenton could say anything more, Collig cut in. "You're in. The custodians will give you entrance. Grant is more than likely with us, but the theater is absolutely worth checking out. Good luck."

"You, too," Fenton replied.

Several officers gathered behind Fenton. "Ready?" he asked them, and several responded, "Yes, sir."

"Ready?" he asked Joe.

"Yes, sir," Joe replied, dryly.

But he WAS ready, and he knew his dad was, too. He took a minute to think of Frank, who would normally have been here, right at his side; who would have acted exactly the same way towards him that their father just had; who was suffering immeasurably right now. He put his left hand to his chest as if he could feel Frank's pain, and in some way he did. But he also felt Frank's strength, his support, and he knew he owed him so much. Roy Grant had broken them temporarily, but he would never break their bond. Yeah, he'd get him. He had to.

For Frank.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Once inside the building, the officers split up, as did Joe and Fenton. As he made his way with Officer O'Malley, each taking an opposite side of the areas he was assigned, Joe couldn't help but feel how creepy this place was at night. Briefly, he thought of Johnny, who had taken them all a few years ago backstage at one of his Off Broadway plays, and he had told them the same thing: _It's the ghosts of the real people, the actors, the parts they bring to life and the stories, real and imagined, that live here, a repository for the restless._ He'd never forgotten that line, spoken so eloquently by his friend, and it could not have been more accurate. These halls, these seats, the stages seemed to have secrets hidden within, and he could see the lure of the theater, though it wasn't for him.

Once, he'd asked Callie, who had a beautiful voice and who'd performed several times in concerts, why she was drawn to the theater, which she loved as well. Her eyes had gotten a faraway quality to them. " _Because you can escape the pain of the real world,"_ she'd said, briefly, and, when he looked at her curiously, she had blushed and brushed it aside. That comment never left him, either, nor had Johnny's response to the same question, as he'd looked at Callie with tenderness. " _Because, Joe, how wonderful is it to become someone else, to lose yourself totally and then to reveal the new you slowly to an audience who_ _wants_ _to know you. Your convictions are both yours and someone else's, and it is an awesome responsibility to wear that mask accurately and to bring those beliefs, those convictions, to the stages."_

He remembered being surprised by the sincerity and passion in Johnny's words, the way Johnny had held Callie's hand as he had said them, as if only she could understand. Joe remembered telling Johnny that his words were "really beautiful", caught between sarcasm and sincerity, not used to hearing Johnny being serious. Then, it was as if Johnny had snapped back to the present, his eyes refocused from wherever his mind had wandered, and he'd punched Joe's shoulder and quickly hugged Callie. " _Plus, there were amazing theater parties! Speaking of which, off to the club to get drunk and PART-AAAYYYYYY!"_ he'd called out, making Callie and him laugh. And it was gone- the fleeting moment of beauty lost because he hadn't been mature enough to acknowledge it properly. He saw that now and regretted it.

Yes, the theater was a place of lost and gained identities, a search for the truth of life in a land built of fiction. And he sensed that now, as hallway after hallway revealed their own secrets. But, unfortunately, they did not reveal Grant.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fenton had texted him that he and the other officers had cleared their parts of the building and would be waiting outside to hear from Collig. He instructed Joe to call if he needed anything inside.

Joe had almost given up when he heard a screaming nearby. He signaled to O'Malley and they ran in the scream's direction, and they found themselves right at the main stage of the theater. They started running up the aisles when, all of a sudden, the curtains opened, and there stood Roy Grant. In front of him, tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth, was one of the custodians from the theater, and he looked terrified.

"Drop your weapons and your radio, or he dies," Grant said calmly to them. "Now."

O'Malley looked at him, and Joe nodded. Slowly, they put down their guns and O'Malley placed his radio by them. "He may leave," Grant said to Joe.

"You know the place is surrounded by cops," Joe replied steadily. "You'll never get away."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Grant answered. "I have a hostage and surely that will get me some leeway. But if I die here…." he spread his arms wide, "then a glorious, tragic departure it would be. Fare thee well," he said to O'Malley.

When O'Malley stared at him, Roy stared back. Then, abruptly, he shouted, "Get the F-ck out of here!"

O'Malley met Joe's eyes and gave a barely discernible nod. He left slowly.

"I hate to use base language like that," Roy stated. "Come. Join us on stage."

Joe started to move cautiously, trying to think, but nothing came. He had to remind himself that this guy was NOT crazy; not in the conventional sense. But he _was_ delusional; really did think himself some great actor. He mentally prepared himself to understand what the hell this guy was talking about, drawing on any drama or lit course he had ever taken. Callie would have been great here.

His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

He sat as close to the custodian as possible without causing Grant, who had a freaking _sword_ of all things, to get upset.

Grant paced the stage, never getting too close to Joe, but eyes never leaving his. Joe knew he couldn't let his hatred of this man make him lose concentration.

"Your brother is smarter than you," Grant stated at last, standing still.

"He is," Joe said evenly.

"You fell for it all, eh? But we still won. And the job WILL be finished."

"Oh," Joe replied. "By you? Because right now you're pretty much a living dead man, a direct target."

"By whomever," Roy answered with a smile. "But Alan will see it through. He always does. By the way, how's your mom? And your nephew? Guess your wife dodged a bullet- or, a car, I should say! Haha! And your sister -in -law? Is she dead yet?"

Joe bit his lip, hands balling into fists with rage. He willed himself to calm down.

"Your wife was supposed to be there, not your mother," he went on. "The 'doctor's office' verified that she was going." He smiled steadily. "Your mom was next. Oh, well. Your father is what matters. It's always been him."

Joe felt his heart pounding. Vanessa. This crazy bastard along with his uncle thought nothing of family and love and …. Then, he got it. He could use that against him. He stood slowly, hands up in a non- threatening gesture.

"You always wanted to be an actor, Roy. Too bad you didn't have any talent."

Joe watched Roy's lip twitch.

"You wouldn't know talent," Roy answered angrily. "Having had no practice in the arts as a commoner."

 _"I'm_ the commoner?" Joe asked. "I have money. I have a job. I have friends and a family who I love more than life. What do you have? Pretend?"

Roy turned red. "I have more than you will ever know, have experienced great things."

Joe nodded, could see Roy unraveling. "I see. I mean, you're right. I love my brother, too, but we decided to hold off on doing porn together for a little bit longer. We wanted to take it slow, get to know each other first...you have me there." He smirked.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," Roy spat out, enraged. "I know survival. I have grit. I have THEATER," he sang out.

"You also have a jail record, but what you don't have is money, family, or talent." He knew that he had to keep harping on that angle as he moved ever so slightly forward. "You wanted John Gellers's role. But John was talented. Gifted."

Grant started stabbing the sword into the stage. "He was a no- good actor. He was a Brad Pitt, a Leonardo DiCaprio- all looks, all gorgeousness, no talent."

"I guess that their Oscars and AMAs and SAG awards don't equate to talent," Joe replied, inching forward. "That makes sense," he added sarcastically.

"Gellers was a joke," he spat out. "He would have decimated Hamlet. He had no understanding of nuance or language or art or character interactions. He was a fool."

Joe narrowed his eyes, reminding himself to keep up the game, not to lose his cool.

"Well, you're partially right," he managed. "Johnny didn't have your father issues or your mommy obsession or your kind of insanity and quest for revenge. You would have done Hamlet proud there it seems."

Roy laughed, a maniacal look coming into his eyes. "Nay, it is; I know not "seems."*

"Oh, here we go again with the _Hamlet_ quotes," Joe said, rolling his eyes. He was within ten feet of the custodian. He searched his mind for a basic _Hamlet q_ uote, though he was out of his element here. "You're- O horrible, O horrible, most horrible!"* There. That one wasn't too hard.

"That's all you have, Mr. Hardy?" he asked. "I return to my assertion earlier. Your brother is smarter than you."

"I agreed," Joe said, matter- of -factly. "Move on, Shakespeare."

"Madness in great ones must not un-watched go,"* he answered steadily.

Eight feet. "O, woe is me/ To have seen what I have seen, see what I see!*" Joe replied. "And I don't see much with you. Listen, pal," Joe went on, hoping to stall a little longer. The police must be nearby, and he had maybe two more basic quotes he could use, and then he was done. "We can play 'I can quote Shakespeare' as long as you want, but Shakespeare could act better than you. You still suck."

Roy turned red, beating the sword again into the stage. "How all occasions do inform against me,/ And spur my dull revenge!*" he called out.

Joe saw his father behind the stage with Biff; saw officers hiding.

Before Roy could recite another line, Joe threw himself forward, and tackled him. Biff tackled him from the other side and Roy was sandwiched between them. The force of the joint tackle caused an audible snap in Joe's clavicle and Biff heard it and looked away.

They threw Roy on the stage as Fenton grabbed the custodian and dragged the chair away and the officers ran on stage to cuff the now howling Grant. "We defy augury; there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all"*. He went on and on.

As the officers were dealing with Roy, Joe hopped to the edge of the stage with Biff and started throwing up. The pain was excruciating and he felt faint. Biff felt queasy looking at Joe and seeing a part of the bone sticking out near his shoulder and he, too, started to vomit. It was painful to look at, and he hated to see anyone, much less his best friend, in agony like that.

Biff looked at Joe after a minute, saw how white Joe was, and put an arm around his waist to support him. Joe was still breathing heavily and held onto Biff with his good arm.

Joe managed to catch his breath as Biff led him slowly in the direction of one of the officers.

"Nice job, man," Biff said. "Take it easy, brother."

"Why… why did you throw up?" Joe asked weakly, fighting nausea and taking a seat until someone could help him. "One would almost think you cared," he managed to mutter.

Biff, who had just helped him sit down, kept a supportive arm around him.

"No way," he said quietly. "Your reciting of Shakespeare was so awful it made me vomit."

Joe started to laugh, but the movement made him groan and black dots swam in front of his eyes as he broke out in a cold sweat.

He briefly felt his dad in front of him, heard some words spoken between him and Biff.

"Joe?" Fenton asked with concern. "Can you wait until the Bayport Hospital, son, or are you going to the one right around the corner? You know what I'd prefer. Grant's done. You got him. The custodian is fine." He rubbed Joe's knee.

Joe took several deep breaths. He knew he had to get back to Bayport, though it was a solid hour and fifteen minutes away. But his family was there, and he needed to be there for Frank. In case…

"Bayport," he managed. He stood up slowly and weakly, legs almost giving out, with Biff and his dad supporting him until they reached the police car. There, one of the officers, at Collig's request, put on the sirens to get them there more quickly. Fenton squeezed Joe's hand and went in the opposite car with Collig as Joe sat in the back of the first car with Biff.

About fifteen minutes in, Joe was beginning to regret his decision. It hurt like hell; he thought he might vomit again. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, needing a distraction.

Biff seemed to sense it. "Joe? You awake, pal?"

"Mmmm," Joe mumbled.

"Admit it," Biff said, knowing how important it was to keep Joe conscious. "You got this whole injury just because you wanted to cuddle with me in the back of a car."

Joe felt a smile tug at his lips. Grant was done; Daniels and Katnova were in custody; Jordan Fitzhenry was in custody and his father was almost apprehended. Two more to go.

"Joe? Joe, come on, man. Stay with me." He again heard Biff's voice, bringing him back to the present.

"Shut up or I'll cuddle AND make out with you now," Joe grumbled with a grin.

"You wish," Biff snorted, relieved.

And so it went until they arrived at the hospital, ready for the next phase to begin.


	28. Chapter 28

**Note:** _As I re-read this chapter, I realize that it's very long- almost 5,800 words- and comprised of five different scenes, each one of which probably should have been its own chapter. But instead of separating the scenes, I kept them as is, because they all go together. (On a side note, all the chapters remaining are pretty much this length!). I'm posting it a day early, since it may take you a day to read- LOL. Hope you enjoy! Thank you so very much to those of you following the story and for those of you who have been so kind to leave feedback since the last chapter: Tin Dog, Erin Jordan, Snow Princess 88, Hero 76, Guest, hbndgirl, Laurie Q, EvergreenDreamweaver, BeeBee18, Caranath, Paulina Ann, BMSH, max 2013, and Penlew. Your comments do make a difference and they're motivating me to force myself out of my current writing slump!_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 28

 _December 18th, 9:15 a.m._ Frank had gazed at her as he prayed for her to wake up. Then, against all odds... she did.

He had been there when it had happened, thank God. He had just brought JJ in to kiss his mommy good morning; it was their ritual now. Get JJ up, feed him, bring him to the hospital to spend an hour with Callie, drive him back to his grandparents, and go back to the hospital. It was his new routine, a somber reality of living and not -living, existing but not functioning, caught somewhere between life and death- just like Callie.

But this time, when JJ called out "Mamamama!" and gave his little baby kisses to her cheek, Frank had seen her eyes start to flutter. His heart had stopped. "Callie! Callie! Baby- can you hear me?" He had sat on the edge of her bed, holding JJ with one arm, touching her face with his other hand. "PLEASE. Honey…"

And she had opened her eyes for no more than five seconds, gave the palest, least discernible smile he had ever seen, and had tried to lift her hand to cover his. That had been it, but she was back, in some form, and he would wait. He'd called his in-laws and parents, Joe and Vanessa, and then had held JJ and kissed him over and over as he held Callie's hand.

Yes, he would wait. He would wait forever if he needed to. He closed his eyes and reflected on the worst time of his life...

 _The first week that Callie had slept _ in a coma had been a whirlwind of emotions. Frank didn't think he had ever been so despondent or so hopeful in his entire life. When she had made it through the first night, against every doctor's expectations, had moved her hand ever so slightly to cover JJs, he felt his faith restored. He kept a constant vigil over her, splitting his time only with Joe and Vanessa, his own parents, and Callie's parents. But she remained virtually lifeless, a flower ready to bloom but not quite in the right environment to do so. Still, he maintained hope. He kissed her, held her, talked to her and prayed for her, but there was no sound except for the monitor that measured each beat of her heart...or maybe it was his own.

He'd left Joe to work on the case alone, to get the revenge that he, himself, so desperately wanted, and Joe had been hurt, required major surgery to fuse his clavicle back together.

And Joe had gotten them, with help from so many. Fitzhenry, Katnova, Daniels, and Grant were in custody, but Todd Rangers and especially- ESPECIALLY- Alan Cotnig had eluded capture, were still at large. If it was anyone else, Frank knew he would have assumed they would have fled. But he knew better. The attacks may have stopped, but Cotnig was out there, watching, waiting, planning.

And, in the meantime, his family was suffering.

 _The start of the second week she had slept _ had been hell. Day one of week two was December 3rd. The eighth anniversary of the night that had changed her- them- forever. He couldn't leave her alone. They'd never spoken in detail about it after that first time, but every December 3, no matter what else was going on, at 7:00 they would just get in bed together and he would just hold her, and, wrapped in his arms, she would fight the terror, the nightmares, that always came to her, as he assured her that she was safe. This night would not be any different.

And he _had_ held her, had refused to leave her, until his father- in- law came in at midnight and insisted he go home. He'd refused; he hadn't cried at all since that first day of the "accident", but when he felt his father- in- law gently help him up as his mother- in- law sat at the foot of Callie's bed, he realized that his face was moist, the tears coming with no conscious thought. He was so grateful that his other father hadn't asked a thing; rather, he had driven him home in silence, hugged him tightly, and said, "I know, son. I love you. Rest."

When he'd entered the house, he was shocked to see Joe wide awake and sitting on the couch.

"What are you doing here?" he'd asked, numbly.

"Vanessa and I are watching JJ tonight," Joe had reminded him, softly.

He nodded. He should have remembered that. It was important.

He knew that Joe could read him better than anyone, as well as Callie could, and he'd always been able to do the same. He saw in Joe's eyes compassion, hurt, concern, love.

"You feeling okay?" he found himself asking Joe automatically.

"I heard you were having a bad night," Joe replied simply.

So... his in-laws had called Joe. He didn't even care. Tonight his heart was bleeding. Tonight he was reminded of everything: IT, her kidnapping and treatment at Cotnig's hands, Johnny, his own fight with Joe, the fear in her eyes as she told him about a miscarriage, the fact that she was barely clinging to life now. His poor, beautiful angel who deserved none of this. He couldn't talk.

"Iola's memorial service was today, nine years ago, exactly three months after she died," Joe said quietly, meeting his eyes.

Frank saw what he was doing, and was grateful beyond words. Joe was talking so he didn't have to, was sharing his secrets so Frank could keep his, was reminding him that he, too, had suffered a terrible loss, and he got it.

Joe turned and retreated into the kitchen momentarily, returning with a large bag in one hand. He reached in with his good arm and took out a case of beer. "I have at least two more. Plus vodka. Rum. I thought you might need to get drunk. I'll be happy to join you."

Frank looked at Joe, walked over to him, and hugged him tightly, careful to avoid his shoulder area. He gave his brother a kiss on the cheek, something he had not done in over twenty years. "Don't mind if I do," he said with a small smile.

Joe only smiled, turned on the tv, opened two beer bottles, and handed one to Frank. "To Callie," Joe said, fighting tears. "To Iola," Frank responded, and hit his bottle against Joe's.

"The next one's to us," Frank added softly, and Joe nodded.

And that was how week two went: a subtle numbness and a fading to black.

 _The third week_ she had slept had been like the hangover: a slow realization that you had to face life, no matter how very foggy and painful it may be. Christmas was two weeks away and he hadn't done a thing. But his life wasn't his own anymore. JJ deserved his first Christmas, even if he wouldn't remember it. So he'd left his in-laws with Callie, and had put up the tree, drinking whatever was left over from Joe the week before to help him get through it.

But Joe had insisted on being there, and though he wasn't physically useful, Joe had saved his sanity. With Joe, he didn't have to make small talk. Joe understood that this was a penance, a duty, not a celebration. He'd done the bare minimum, but it still looked nice, more than acceptable. Callie would have approved. And Joe had done him the favor of hanging up the stockings, because seeing their names on each one on what would have been their first Christmas with their son would have been too much for him.

And Vanessa had gone out and bought gifts, wrapped them all up, and hidden them away. He still couldn't have said what she had bought, but the thoughtfulness touched him deeply.

When Vanessa had brought JJ down to see the tree with the lights, he had started laughing and clapping his hands and crawling like a doodlebug all over the place, so very excited. And Frank had felt Joe's arm around him as he watched his son through tear-filled eyes, knowing this was a moment Callie should have been present for. Joe- always AT his side- always ON his side. Something he always should have known.

And then that week had been surreal. Now doctors started asking questions: How long could she continue in a coma? At what point should the baby be aborted or try to be saved? Could a comatose woman deliver a child? The answer, he'd learned, was yes. Would the baby survive birth with the extent of Callie's injuries? Would Callie die anyway? It was crazy, unbelievable, frightening... sobering.

He finally began to concentrate on what they were saying. Placenta Previa. Placental Abruption. Cervical cerclage: apparently, that had been what the doctors had to do to keep her from miscarrying, though he had little understanding of what it entailed. And it had worked. The irony was clear: her body was shutting down, unable to deal with the shock, blood loss, and pain, and, in turn, was giving her baby a chance to heal, to grow, one life for another. Just like with JJ.

The list went on and on. Severe Anemia. Low amniotic fluid. Three broken ribs. A punctured lung. And still… and STILL… she fought.

And then today, this morning, she had tried to fight again.

He looked at his watch again. 3:45. He had been here all day, waiting for the miracle of this morning to repeat itself. His dad had been good enough to take JJ, and everyone else was there, too. Had been all day, since his call.

"Frank?" she whispered, barely opening her eyes. It was so bright. Everything hurt. Where- where was she?

He was at her side instantly. "Cal?" he asked, voice shaking.

She stared at him, trying to process everything. She didn't understand. Why couldn't she think?

She felt him brushing the hair from her forehead, saw him smiling although tears were running down his face.

She couldn't talk. She was so very tired. Her eyes began to close.

She felt him kiss her lips, hold her hand.

"You're safe, honey. You're safe."

THAT she understood. She managed to squeeze his hand before succumbing to the darkness.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 _One week later- Christmas Day_

"Do you like it?" Joe asked Callie. He and Vanessa had just finished setting up the Christmas tree in the hospital room and dropping several presents in front of it for when JJ and Frank would be arriving in about an hour.

Callie smiled. "It's perfect, guys. Thank you."

"Merry Christmas!" Vanessa exclaimed happily, bending over to kiss Callie on the cheek. "Oh, Cal. This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

Callie laughed softly. "I have a lot to be thankful for, absolutely," she responded. She yawned suddenly and then winced as a pain shot through her ribs.

Vanessa eyed her sympathetically. "How much pain are you in?" she asked, concerned.

"Oh, hush," Callie answered. "I'll be okay. This is JJ's first Christmas, and I'm here, and you're here, and everyone is coming later." She spoke slowly now; breathing was still laborious. "And I have this hat, so what's not to be happy about?" She pointed at the ridiculous Santa hat that Joe had brought her, adorned with lights and garland. It was the tackiest thing she'd ever seen, next to that pajama set that he had given to JJ on Thanksgiving, the total opposite of every fashion rule she believed in.

"You like it, right?" Joe asked, and she could tell there was a little more than teasing in his eyes.

"It's great," she responded softly, concentrating on breathing. "And you gave it to me. So I love it." She tried to keep her sentences short; it was easier that way.

"Eggnog or coffee? Orange juice? What do you want for breakfast?" Vanessa asked, anxious to make Callie happy, to keep her mind off her long recovery; her constant pain.

Callie almost answered that she wasn't hungry- she wasn't-but she knew she needed to gain weight, and she could hear her doctor warning her about how important it was for her to take her medicine and vitamins and to eat well. "How about eggs and a piece of toast?" she asked slowly, breathing painful. "Thanks, Van."

Vanessa's face lit up, and Joe smiled at her enthusiasm. "Sure! I'll be right back. Joe, I'll make a separate trip for you!"

Joe walked to Vanessa and gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you," he told her.

"I love you," she replied, blushing. "I'll be back soon, Cal!" she added, and headed for the hospital cafe and the special Christmas menu.

Left alone with each other, Joe smiled and sat down on the side of Callie's bed. Although she had been getting stronger each day, she was still very, very weak and in much worse pain, he knew, then she was letting on. She slept most of the time and had just started being more alert two days ago, and this was the first real time he had spent with her.

He held her hand. "You look cute in the hat," he said, offhandedly. Vanessa had brought her an ugly Christmas sweater which she now wore over her tee shirt and Christmas pajama bottoms. Callie, who was always so put together and conservative, looked completely out of her element.

"I look ridiculous," Callie replied softly, with hesitation. "But today I love it."

He squeezed her hand. He had so much to tell her, but he knew that she knew it all already; he felt it. "You know, if this gets too much for you today, kick everyone out. You need rest."

"Okay," Callie responded, closing her eyes to rest. She felt completely fine doing so with Joe as he rubbed her hand gently.

"Are you really stuck in this place until junior arrives?" he asked her after a few minutes.

She opened her eyes weakly. "That's what they say." She remembered vaguely the doctors talking seriously to her and Frank about her options. She wouldn't abort this child, even if it cost her her own life. The doctors had told her that they normally no longer prescribed strict bed rest for expectant mothers, since inactivity was no good for mother or child and it could lead to a whole host of other issues. However, in her case, she needed it. She had been ordered to bed rest until the baby would be delivered- again, no doubt, many weeks premature- and allowed to get up only to go to the bathroom and shower and literally do nothing else. The cervical cerclage demanded total pelvic rest; plus, she had to wait for her internal injuries to heal properly.

She added, "But you know damned well I have no intention of staying here." Her eyes, though tired, held a familiar sparkle, a mischief in them. "I can rest as easily at home as I can here."

Joe laughed. "I'll help spring you out, sis. My brother would be happy with you here, though. In fact, he was working on inventing a new plastic bubble to surround you."

Callie squeezed his hand again. "Thanks, buddy."

Joe winked at her. "I wanted to tell you- before Frank gets here. Just so you know. He's been working really hard getting the truth out there about Johnny. Now the papers are hailing him as a hero again. Some are still harping on the fact that he was gay and making him a role model for the community."

"Well," she responded, clinging to Joe's hand as a wave of pain cut through her. He didn't ask; just held on. "John WAS a hero and a role model. But he was too private for anything else." Joe could tell how tired she was getting. "He would say that we don't have heterosexual heroes so we shouldn't have homosexual heroes. Actually, he would deny he was a hero at all."

"He was a good man," Joe said, simply.

"Mmmm," Callie answered. "He was. My Johnny."

"And I always knew that. Just- I wanted to-" he began, needing to speak to her as he had finally spoken with Frank.

"I know, Joey," she assured him. "So does Frank." She forced her eyes to remain open momentarily. "Hey," she whispered softly. "Can I tell you something?"

"Anything," he replied earnestly.

When he looked at her, he saw how exhausted, weak, and uncomfortable she was, but he was shocked most of all by the look of intensity in her eyes, heavy with sleep. She was literally fighting to stay awake, and he saw that. "You're always so good to me," she muttered in a low voice. "Frank told me about your talk. I owe you a little more explanation."

"You don't," he replied, still rubbing her hand gently. "It's okay, Cal. I should have just accepted your request to leave it alone, because it meant something to you. I'm sorry."

Her eyes were filled with tears as she turned from him. "No. I promised you I would talk to you, and I always keep my word. I can't say too much, Joe, because it's a part of my past that I never want to remember. But I want you to know, directly from me... why. Briefly..." her eyes took on a haunted tone as she tried to be very vague, "when I was in college, and Frank and I were separated, I had to deal with... things... on my own. It..." her lips quivered... "was a very negative time, and I was scared because I had no one. Johnny was the someone who helped me, to say the least. You have no idea what that man did for me. I loved him, Joe. I knew him as well as I know Frank, and that's why I knew he couldn't be guilty."

Joe looked at her tenderly, and simply listened. He'd grown a lot, had learned the value of silence from his brother.

"What-" he started, in a low voice, but stopped when Callie shook her head.

"I can't, Joe. _Ever._ But I should have told you when this case started what I told you now. It was just so... dark... that I couldn't think straight and realize what it would do to you and Frank. I reacted strongly because it was John's reputation on the line, and of course that was important. But it hit me one day; I was defensive because of who I knew him to be, what he did for me. I'm so sorry." She was crying softly. "And no one else in the world, other than Frank, knows that time even existed. You really don't need to know the details. It's done. I need you to respect that, but I am truly sorry I wasn't clear at the start of everything. I could have saved everyone heartache." She was trembling slightly, her hands now balled into fists, and Joe could see how traumatic it had been for her to even speak the vague words. Her whole posture changed as she almost shrank into herself; her breathing was totally uneven. She was fighting against unconsciousness as each word became a battle.

He looked directly at her, finally, his blue eyes and her dark ones parallel pools of sorrow. He released her hand and sat by her side, slipping an arm around her slim shoulders. He leaned his forehead against hers. "Shhh," he whispered. "Close your eyes. Rest. No one will ever know what you told me, Cal. Thank you for telling me what you did. I won't ask you more; you have my word. Before, I was going to say 'Whatever you need' not 'what happened," believe it or not. If you _ever_ want to talk, I'm here for you, and I will support you with all that I have. And it hurts me," he choked out, "that I couldn't help you. I'm so sorry for whatever you went through," he went on. "I'm sorry that we weren't close enough for those years that you had to trust a new person in your life with whatever happened. I'm glad he turned out to be worthy of you. I'm so very sorry you felt alone, sis," he finished. "I swear to you that you'll never be alone again. On my life, I promise you that." He kissed her forehead. He would keep his promise not to speculate, not to discuss that anything at all had happened with anyone. Callie trusted him, and he valued that immensely.

Callie shakily wiped her tears with the back of her hand and rested her head against his shoulder, fighting against the intense physical and emotional pain. Her eyes, heavy with sleep, closed at last. She tried to concentrate on the positive: she had Frank and her family and his family. By some miracle, she had survived IT. By an equal miracle, she had overcome her physical injuries then; even the fact that she had gotten pregnant- twice-had been unexpected, to say the least. The doctors had told her that the odds were against her ever being able to have children as a result of the physical damage which had occurred from the extreme brutality of IT, but Frank had married her anyway, joyfully and with total love and acceptance of that fact, willing to give up any hope of having children of his own, all for her. _Another secret._ But now they had a most beautiful son, a miracle of the greatest proportion. The days she had given birth to her son and found out that she was pregnant again were the greatest moments of her and Frank's life, much more than anyone knew. Life was filled with hidden blessings, with moments such as this.

She wished Frank was there now. But Joe... somehow, he was a pretty good substitute.

"I think I need to sleep for a little while," she managed, taking slow, shallow breaths. She couldn't stay awake, heard her speech slurred. "Before everyone comes. Can … can you stay with me?" she asked, completely empty. It had hurt so much even thinking about it; she had nothing left. Plus, she was scared. Sometimes she was afraid that if she fell asleep again, she wouldn't wake up. She needed someone who she knew would wake her up if she slept too deeply- someone she loved a lot and trusted to do so. She had only confided that fear to Frank, but he wasn't here yet, and she was exhausted. Just talking and thinking were a major effort.

She didn't have to say another word. He understood at once, and was touched, gently rubbing her shoulder in comfort, and he held her free hand.

"Of course. Sleep, Cal. I'm right here for you. Merry Christmas," he said softly.

"Merry Christmas," she mouthed back as her eyes closed. She held onto Joe's hand. He didn't let go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The rest of Christmas passed in whirlwind. Everyone descended on Callie's hospital room, and Joe was pretty sure that, if it hadn't been Christmas and the hallways hadn't been so sparsely populated, they would have been kicked out long ago.

Callie had very limited stamina, but Joe had seen the absolute joy in her eyes when she had seen JJ and Frank. She had watched JJ open his gifts with help from family and friends. He had almost started to cry when "Santa" arrived, and had spent the day enjoying his first Christmas, looking like a perfect little angel, himself. Soon after, completely spent, she had fallen asleep, nestled against Frank. Joe knew he would never forget the look of utter devotion, relief, and love in Frank's eyes as he looked as his son and Callie. It was beautiful; it was time that he had that moment.

Callie's parents were overjoyed and laughing; Fenton and Laura were chatting, Laura feeling sufficiently stronger and reinvigorated by the new life in her family. All grandparents were fussing over the baby.

Visitor upon visitor came with gifts, and, if Callie had been awake, she would have seen how many people loved her. Biff and his girlfriend dropped by, and Biff tried to convince Joe to play "Toss the baby" instead of "Toss the Football" as soon as his arm healed, much to Frank's consternation. Andrea, Pat and his girlfriend, Tony and his wife, Chet's whole family, Liz, Stephanie, Collig and his wife, who was recovering well, Phil and his new lady… the list of visitors went on and on.

At the conclusion of visiting hours, Laura and Fenton returned to their house with JJ. The Shaws returned home. The only reminder of their case was the constant police presence, but they were regular guys, too, always down for a laugh, and they made themselves known more as old friends than people who were prepared to protect them at all costs.

At the end of the night, Frank had hugged Joe tightly and apologized for not getting him a present this year, but offered free babysitting for at least a week, which Joe thought more than sufficient. Joe had managed to enjoy the day, pushing his conversation with Callie away, as he promised her that he would do. It was necessary for him as well, because when he had let his mind wander after his earlier conversation with Frank... and then Callie... he had felt a sickness come over him as the puzzle pieces started to fit. But he'd stopped himself, truly not wanting to know, because his mind went to a dark place and, if he had guessed correctly, he didn't know if he could deal with it, and he prayed to god he was wrong. So he didn't think. He just channeled that energy into an even deeper love for his sister and brother.

Then, Frank had simply settled in next to Callie, and Joe knew he'd be holding her close, thanking God that she was there. They deserved peace. Finally.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Joe and Vanessa finally were dropped off at their home by the officer assigned to them, he held her hand as they walked to their door. He smiled as he picked up a surprise package from his brother, who really had gotten him a gift after all- he had ordered a monthly delivery of the best imported and domestic beers to be sent to him all year, and had attached the message, " _I got one for myself, too, in case you wanted to get drunk one night. I love you. Frank."_

He ignored the tears in his eyes as he led her inside. There, he turned on the tree lights and started the fireplace.

Helping Vanessa off with her coat, he laid down with her on the couch and wrapped his arms around her, cuddling close. He laid a hand on her belly, so excited that she was finally showing. Because of Callie's problems, they had been especially quiet about their own burgeoning joy of parenthood, sensitive to the fact that Callie and Frank almost lost - might still- lose their child.

But he was so excited. "Look at my beautiful baby and my beautiful wife," he said tenderly to her.

Vanessa laid her hand on top of his. "I think LJ will be just perfect," she whispered with a smile, and Joe laughed. They hadn't told anyone yet, but they had found out that they were having a boy and decided to nickname him LJ for "Little Joe" until they could find a suitable name for their son.

"Can you believe this, Babe?" he said tenderly to her. "This is the last Christmas it's just you and me. And if I haven't told you enough," he went on, looking into her gorgeous blue-gray eyes, "I love you more than life. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I will TAKE it," he said, and pulled her close for a passionate kiss.

Vanessa felt her heart beating hard. She loved Joe so much; loved how he made her laugh and made her feel treasured, never once afraid to show his feelings publically or privately, to express the words in his heart and mind, for better or worse. "Merry Christmas, sexy beast," she teased him.

"Merry Christmas, gorgeous angel," he answered. "And Merry Christmas, LJ," he said to her tummy, rubbing it gently again. His eyes crinkled with love as he felt just the slightest movement, this miracle. "Thank you for being perfect," Joe whispered, "and for carrying our baby. I still can't believe it." He kissed her again, more intensely, making her moan softly in pleasure.

"It's late," she breathed, managing to sit up. "We should end the night with Christmas songs or something," she added, trying to catch her breath.

"Okay," Joe replied mischievously, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her neck. Vanessa felt the color rise to her cheeks as waves of pleasure swept through her body. "No Silent Night," he replied, continuing to trail his kisses lower. "It's more like Joy to the World, Sleigh Ride, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, and especially O Come all Ye Faithful…"

Vanessa laughed at Joe's ability to be both ridiculously silly and ridiculously sexy at the same time. She finally gave in, turned around, and returned the kisses. "I will never think of the titles of those songs the same way again," she breathed heavily as she spoke. "You've ruined Christmas for me."

"Grinch," he teased, and winked at her. "Now, let's have yourself a merry little Christmas…" he murmured and lost himself in the moment, taking a moment to be grateful for all his blessings this day, the biggest one of which was in his arms.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alan Cotnig looked at the plans in front of him. Things had gone well- very well. Fenton Hardy and Ezra Collig were within his grasp, and, like last time, they were just starting to let their guard down.

Last time had been fun; this time, it was downright brilliant. Sure, there had been many casualties on his part along the way, but they were all pawns in his game; his brothers, blood or otherwise, understood the risks. No matter what crimes they had done, they had also done the time. And nothing united a bunch of low -lifes, as Fenton Hardy had called them in court, like a little revenge.

Take some special skills- a hacker, a bank thief, a doctor, an arsonist, a murderer- the list went on, and ask them to prove their worth. Everyone liked to be validated. Everyone would be merciless when there was nothing to lose. Everyone liked games. Everyone hated Fenton Hardy and Ezra Collig. And, poof- everyone was set for action.

Enter him-burned, scarred for life, in constant pain, because of HIM. That was unforgivable. So let him see what it was like to have that pain, and start slowly. Like a fine wine, it improved with time. Start with the mental, crush slowly, go to the physical. Then die. He briefly thought of Poe's "Cask of Amontillado." Poe, like him: brilliant, dark, mad? Some would say so. Yes, Poe had said it best in that story: "A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong."* Brilliant.

God, he loved puzzles and games. He loved to hurt people who thought they were better than him. He loved to put people in their places. And everyone hated the Hardys, the police, their holier-than-thou attitude, their wholesome, good guy image. But he'd cracked them; yes, he had. And once the smallest crack appeared, the whole foundation could crumble. A veritable "Fall of the House of Usher."

And literature helped him. The great minds, misunderstood, judged by critics who simply did not understand their brilliance. Frost; Dickinson; Poe; Hamer; Cummings; the inimitable Shakespeare- ALL of them, and so many others, on shelves gathering dust. He'd just brought them to life.

So when the idea occurred to him to use their brilliance against those who did not understand, it was his honor to do so. Join them with Hercule Poirot, Sherlock Holmes… and see if Fenton Hardy and his sons could even hold a candle to them. It had been fun to watch them burn. A classic tale...

He wrote furiously in his notebook.

 _A:_ Angst. Anxiety. Anguish. Aspirin. Actors. Ashes. Aunts. Antic Disposition. ANTHONY.

 _B: B_ efuddle. Babies. Beatings. Brakes. Brother battle Brother. BIFF.

C: Confuse and Confound. Clue after Clue. Crashes. Cops. Coma. CALLIE. CHET.

D: Deceive. Die. Doctors. Digitoxin. Death. DON.

E: Enervate. Elucidate. EZRA.

F. Fire. Formula. FENTON. FRANK.

G. Guesses. Gasps. GERTRUDE. GELLERS.

H. Hurting. Hunted. Hospital. HARDY.

I. ICU. Injuries. Injustice. Indiscretion. IOLA.

J. Justice. Jealousy. JOE.

He could go on and on, but he had proven his point. He was smarter than them. But now that:

Ezra Collig had watched his wife almost die

Laura Hardy had been hurt

Callie Hardy had been kidnapped, badly hurt twice, and was still fighting for her life

Vanessa Hardy had been kidnapped and hospitalized

Gertrude Hardy had been hospitalized

Anthony Prito, Biff Hooper, Chet Morton, Don Anllow, Ezra Collig, Frank Hardy, and Gertrude Hardy had helped to reveal his hidden codes, and had been terrorized

Frank Hardy's son had been in an accident

John Gellers was dead

There was only one thing left.

 **O** ne. **K** ill.- **O.K.!**

Another code. He smiled.

K. KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL. KILL

The final stage was at hand, and his conviction was strong.

*Edgar Allan Poe's "The Cask of Amontillado"


	29. Chapter 29

**Note:** _Another super long chapter (6300-ish words), which could have been three chapters! :) What can I say? I like to give a lot of detail. I wanted to give credit here for the first section of the chapter to Moon in Scorpio for the idea about therapy, and for several of you who had commented earlier that Frank and Callie were so close now that they had pulled apart from everyone, because of their secret knowledge of her past and Frank's obsession to protect her at all costs. You got me thinking- maybe they should realize that, too- and become better as a result of it. See? Your suggestions and constructive feedback help me a lot. I listen and think! Many, many thanks to those who have commented since the last chapter: Red Hardy, hbndgirl, EvergreenDreamweaver, BeeBee18, Erin Jordan, max 2013, BMSH, sm2003495, Caranath, and Paulina Ann._

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 29

 _New Year's Eve_

"Baby, there's no way I'm leaving you by yourself. No way. It's not gonna happen," Frank said adamantly to Callie. He was sitting in the chair next to her bed, having just dropped JJ off with Vanessa, who had come to the hospital to pick him up and drive him back to Fenton and Laura's house for their annual New Year's Eve gathering.

"Yes, you are," Callie responded evenly and pushed the button to make the bed incline even more so that it rose almost to a sitting position. "And I won't be alone. My parents are coming. Now- help me stand up."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "No. You're not ready. Besides, bed rest means just that- rest in bed."

Callie closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath. She didn't have the energy to argue with Frank tonight, she really didn't, but she knew it was time for this conversation to happen. _Here I go, about to pull a Joe,_ she couldn't help but to think to herself, and she had to give a small smile at that thought. She had come to think of "pulling a Joe" as speaking off the cuff, going with the flow, having no plan; she'd done that plenty of times in her life before, especially with Frank, with whom she had no pretense or guard up. _Here goes nothing…_

Already almost sitting, she released the bed rail and started to swing her legs over the side. She grimaced as she did so, hating to admit that it was far harder and more painful than it should have been. He was at her side instantly.

"What are you doing?" he asked, half-panicked. "You need to stay still! Callie, if-"

She held up her hand to silence him as she slowly caught her breath. "Are you going to help me or not?" she asked, pointedly.

He looked torn. "Help you do what?" he finally asked.

"Just get me out of this bed. Please," she added. "Just for a few minutes."

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, and Callie rolled her eyes.

"Frank- stop! How about you help me stand, give me a hug, and then I'll just sit right on your lap -on that chair, not this bed-for ten minutes, and we'll call it a night?" She gave him her winning-est smile.

Frank sighed but smiled. "All right," he acquiesced. "I guess that's not too bad. Ten minutes!" he reminded her.

"Deal!" she replied, and weakly reached her arms up for him.

He came to her side and she could tell that he was being extra gentle. He slid an arm around her waist and stood with her as he helped her up. She was grateful more than ever that he was so strong- she knew if she gained fifty pounds with this pregnancy he could still lift her easily, though, so far, she had gained fewer than ten.

She managed to stand, though she couldn't stop a cry from escaping her lips. It was hard to breathe, her ribs were on fire, and she felt a strong pressure or weight in her lower stomach, back, and pelvis. She knew she was trembling. Still, she clung to him tightly, burying her face into his chest as she tried to get her bearings.

Frank, alarmed, went to move her back to the bed, but she shook her head against him. "No."

She felt him tighten his arms around her, somehow both holding her immobile firmly and cradling her gently. Only he had that ability. She held onto him, a barrier against the pain, and, after a minute or two, she could at least breathe better. She HAD to do this. She had a point to make.

Callie looked up at him at last, saw the concern for her etched deep in his eyes. She saw he was biting his tongue, fighting every instinct he had, to let her do whatever she needed to. She touched his cheek, finally trusting herself not to hold on fully.

"Babe," she said at last, still breathing hard, "We need to talk."

"You can talk sitting down," he pointed out quietly, though he was running his fingers through her hair, fully supporting her with one arm.

"I'm trying to show you that I'm getting better," she replied, breathing slowly. "That there has to be a point where you let me go."

He looked slightly hurt. "That point isn't now."

"I'm okay," she said to him.

"No, you're not," he replied firmly, but sympathetically. Saying no more, he quickly covered the distance with her to the chair and sat down, pulling her gently onto his lap.

Callie felt her emotions swirling out of control and she fought tears as she looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with him. He was right about her physical condition, at least. Her body ached. This movement alone was enough to almost make her pass out. She felt shaky and lightheaded, out of breath. Pain from her ribs aside, the pressure from the cerclage, her stomach, and her back was bad. She felt his arms around her as he kissed her cheek.

"You are a brave, stubborn girl, but you're MY brave, stubborn girl. What did you want to tell me, sweetheart? I'm here. And I will shut my mouth until you get out what you need to." He spoke softly, with affection and tenderness in his voice.

Callie relented at last and allowed herself to relax against him. Finally, she met his eyes. "I want to feel normal again," she found herself saying in a small voice. "I'm so scared about this pregnancy. I'm scared for our baby; I'm scared for me; I'm scared for us."

"I know," he acknowledged her, gently rubbing her back. "I am, too, baby."

She smiled. "But ever since- March-" she hesitated, making sure he understood and saw he did, "we've been living in this little world we created- just us. Honey," she met his eyes, slipped one arm around his shoulders, "this is a new year coming. We need to change. You need to have faith in me that I can be okay - that I _will b_ e okay- if you're not around."

He looked startled, hurt. "Oh…"

"Don't misunderstand me," she said, compassionately, and kissed his forehead. She spoke slowly, each word an effort. "Other than JJ, I love you more than anything: you are my best friend, my partner, my lover, my amazing husband. But hasn't this whole year taught you, sweetheart, that you can't control everything? That's what I've thought about ... a lot."

She could tell he was listening, alert. "Go on."

"Frank, sometimes I want to crawl away and hide from the world and have it be just you and me and JJ and… and maybe a new little one." She looked briefly at her stomach, then met his eyes again. "But that's not real life. You try so hard to protect me to the exclusion of everyone and everything else-that's _your_ fault. And I let you, and a part of me so needs you to- that's _my_ fault. But we have family, honey. We have friends. You need to go out again and be silly and show that side to you that I know - that Joe and Phil and your good friends from high school and college know. Go to ball games and dinner and guy's weekends if you need to, and I need to do the same- well, with the girls," she corrected with a smile. "I am so happy with you," she emphasized, making sure he heard her, "and I am so in love with you. I love you more every day-" she quickly kissed his lips. "I trust you, and I want you to be happy, to be FRANK- not just Callie's husband or JJ's daddy or Fenton Hardy's supposedly responsible son. I want you to be - whole again. And forgive me for not letting you be."

Frank met her eyes, his own eyes watery. "I _am_ whole with you," he replied. "And there is nothing to forgive. You will never know how much I love you."

"I DO know," she replied, fighting tears of her own. "Babe, the point I'm making is this." She took a deep breath, fought the pain. "All those years ago, I couldn't control when … IT … happened."

She felt Frank hold her tighter, but his eyes never left hers, offering her unwavering support.

She had to be strong. "That time almost destroyed me, but I survived. I did so because I had an excellent therapist, good doctors, and, above all, Johnny. And when WE finally reunited, I was much stronger, but still- it took years to get back to my new normal- 100%. Frank, in all of this, I realized that YOU never got help, and it was an unfair burden of me to place THAT upon you."

"No. No, baby. I wanted to help you. That's my job." He begged her to understand.

"No, it's not," Callie replied, firmly. "I should never be your JOB. I should be your PLEASURE. I know you don't mean it that way, but it highlights something important. Honey, I think you need to talk to someone. I'm serious. I've learned to cope, but you haven't... and I didn't realize it until this case. You've always had Joe to confide in if you couldn't talk to me, and vice versa. But in impossible times like this, for all the rage, and anger, and confusion- all of the things I went through myself, maybe minus the depression and physical trauma- you have no outlet. Please. Promise me you'll go this year, and I'll go with you- if you want. I think, though, that maybe you'll want and need this time for yourself. Promise me." She touched his cheek gently as a lone tear escaped. "It was traumatic for you, too, Frank. You need to acknowledge that."

He looked down, trying to control the quivering of his lip, blushing.

"Stop, honey," she whispered. "Don't be ashamed. I love you for loving me so much that when I hurt, you hurt. But you know what? Look at me."

He looked up again, unable to speak.

"I'm okay. I'm strong. Yes, I feel safe with you when I'm in your arms. But God gave me my own two feet, too, and they're meant for standing on my own. I have my own voice and opinions, and I'm not afraid to express them. I'm pretty smart. I've lived on my own, I've had jobs and responsibilities and my own hopes and dreams, just like you." She ran her hand through his hair. "I have my own friends and like things you don't, and you have the same. God, Frank- math is so awful."

Despite himself, Frank felt a small laugh escape.

Callie smiled back. "You're my other half, and I am with you- and you with me- as a CHOICE. We make each other better people- _most of the time_. This year, we saw the worst of what being too dependent on each other means. This case with Cotnig has been going on for nearly a year, with only the smallest of reprieves. It almost destroyed us and our families. Frank, I know you must have been scared to death when your dad was missing. When I was taken with Van and Johnny. Think of what we've been through- it's been hell. You have to acknowledge that."

Frank looked in her eyes and nodded slowly. "It's so much," he managed at last.

"Yes, it is." She closed her eyes for a moment and took a series of shaky breaths. "But it's time to move on."

"How?" Frank asked. "He's still out there."

"Because," she replied, trying so hard to be strong, "you have never failed me. And you won't this time, either."

"Of course I've failed you," Frank choked out, eyes bright with tears. "Many times."

"No, you haven't," she reiterated firmly. "You have to move on. How, you asked me? I'll tell you. Acknowledge what this year - what IT- has done to you. Acknowledge what we have been through. Say it out loud and demystify it. I've had trouble doing it myself. So I'll do it for us, okay?"

"What?! No!" Frank replied, more panicked than he wanted to admit. "I see your point. Fine. I get it."

"I was raped when I was 19," she began, ignoring him, shaking now as she forced herself to take her own advice, "countless times. The pain and trauma were excruciating. You know all the details that I can't even vocalize anymore. But I did share them: with my doctor, therapist, John, and you. As a result of that rape, I almost died. Doctors said I might never have kids."

Tears fell from both their eyes. He tried to calm her. "No... don't say it," he tried to cut her off.

"I WILL say it," she insisted, voice aquiver. "I was RAPED. It crushes me to say the word. To me, to cope, it has always been IT. But what they did to me was not your fault. Don't be afraid of it anymore. And don't always go there, like I used to. Like I still do sometimes." She was shaking still, trying hard to push back the sickening images, the terrible fear. She had to give conviction to her words. "And then this year came. I was kidnapped and I know you feared it would happen again- and yet you couldn't tell anyone. And you were afraid for Vanessa, too, and John, and your dad, and Chief Collig, and for your kid brother, who you saw badly hurt, physically and emotionally. You worried about your mom being taken. You were with John when he died, thank God, but what a horror for you. Then, you watched as I almost died and we almost lost our precious baby. You and Joe fought so badly that you almost lost each other. That's horrifying. Everyone in your life has suffered this year as a result of him- Cotnig- SAY HIS NAME. And you know what? I may lose this baby, too. I may die even trying to have him or her if the pregnancy is viable. That is more trauma than anyone should ever endure. And that is exactly why it has to end."

He leaned his head against the top of hers, nuzzling against her soft hair, and holding her to him tightly. "Cotnig will die," he whispered.

"Yes," she managed. "Good. Like that. Baby, I survived. And so did you. So did ... almost everyone." Her mind flashed to Johnny. "Cotnig has not and did not and will not defeat you or Joe or any of us. We've come too far. You can't pretend he doesn't exist or that everything he did wasn't a reality or that my attack didn't happen. If you do that, you can't win. But if you acknowledge all the pain and rage, and use it to drive you... then, sweetheart, you are unstoppable. Please don't forget that Joe has been through so much, too. His rage has made him love life so much more. Learn from him. Work with him. My Hardy boys are a force to be reckoned with."

Frank kissed her head softly. "So is my angel of a wife. And I think my sister- in-law is pretty tough, too." He chuckled slightly.

"Don't be afraid for me, sweetheart, because I'm not afraid for myself anymore. Frank, the rape- IT - happened to me. And it was horrible beyond imagination. But again- I had no control over it. I couldn't control when I was kidnapped. I couldn't control how and where JJ was born. I couldn't control when my brakes went out, or that some car crashed into the car I was in and I almost died. I can't control if I'll die, or if our new baby will. I couldn't save Johnny. Joe could not save Iola. Despite our best efforts, doing everything right, it was out of our control."

He nodded, eyes still bright with tears. "I know," he said softly.

"It made me realize, baby- we can't control ANYTHING. It's all an illusion. Johnny made me hear that a long time ago, but I didn't really understand it until now. I -actually, honey-I feel more at peace. If I die tomorrow, I lived a good, blessed life. I think Joe gets it, I really do. I think Iola's death made him realize that. And no matter what bad thing falls on us, we go on. Because we have to. Because that's life. It has to be lived. Let's be happy and stop being so serious and have some fun again. I think it's time, Frank. I know it is." She said it with such conviction that he was moved, as she rested her head against his, nestled into his arms.

"I'm so sorry, baby. It IS time," Frank responded as he breathed deeply. She was right- she was absolutely right. Although he loved her and JJ with every fiber of his being, and truly enjoyed their time as a family, he DID miss his old life a little bit, missed being irresponsible and a little wild; missed nights out and sports and impulsivity. Missed the days when he could camp with his friends and brother, or spend the weekend going to college football games. He missed when his dad would just talk to him about sports instead of accounting, when Joe would drag him out against his will to late clubs and parties... but he had fun every time. He even missed the freedom to take Callie away on a spur of the moment vacation, to romance her and get lost with her on purpose, knowing they'd have the time of their lives just in the journey of being together.

Sure, he had a baby now and that came with awesome responsibilities. He was a father, and that had changed him to the core. But he realized that to be a great dad, he had to show JJ facets of his _whole_ life- eventually. Maybe he'd never be as cool a dad as Joe would be… but maybe… hey… it _could_ happen.

It was true. He would love to go back- just a little… and not feel guilty, a feeling that lay entirely on his shoulders, never having come from her. He'd done it _for_ her, but _to_ himself, and the veracity of her words were hitting home. He DID need help. And he owed it to her, to his family... to himself, to get it.

Frank touched her face and kissed her, and she felt a warmth, a flush, throughout her body, despite the pain that continued to grow in intensity, the most literal, truest mixture of pleasure and pain she had ever felt.

"Mmmm," she whispered softly to him. The breathlessness was not from her injuries alone. "I am going to miss S-E-X so much," she said, spelling it out, both joking and, yet, completely serious.

Frank wiped the tears from his eyes and laughed despite himself. "How long again?" he asked with a smile.

"Um... well, it's already been what- five weeks? So, if I am even able to carry the little guy or gal even to the goal of 34 weeks- and then recovery time- I'd say a _good_ five months." She opened her eyes wide and covered her mouth with her hand, in a surprised gesture. "Not good."

Frank groaned. "That is a REALLY long time," he whispered as pulled her close for a slow and deep kiss, careful to be gentle, but, as always with Callie, it was painfully hard to stop. She was so beautiful to him, and they had always had such a passionate spark, had since they met, one that ignited all the time, an almost daily expression of their love, their desire. It was going to be a hell of a long five months...

"You've been there before," Callie teased with a smile as she pulled back, face flushed. Damn. She could barely move, her body trembling from the pain. But she knew she trembled from him as well. It wasn't possible at all to act on, but she wanted him. She always had.

"Don't remind me," Frank whispered huskily. "A babysitter can name the price. Somehow, we'll have to make time to be alone." He kissed her neck.

"To perfect our technique," Callie breathed in a low voice, unable to help herself from flirting with Frank. It was second nature.

"Oh, it's pretty perfect." He went to kiss her lips again, then started trailing kisses along her neck, but he finally pulled back and took a deep breath. "We really have to stop," he told her, with a gentle touch to her cheek. "You need rest. I need a cold shower. I might as well live in one. Maybe an ice bucket."

Callie laughed and grabbed her side as her ribs ached terribly. He always could make her smile. Frank helped her up, knowing she was fragile now, and he kissed her head. Her legs were weak and almost gave out, but he held her up. He always did... but he finally saw that she could have stood alone, on her own two feet, as she had reminded him. He wanted to smile and cry at the thought. He loved her so much that he had to trust that she was her own person without him; and he could stand alone, too, if he ever had to. This case had destroyed that confidence in her and in himself, but he vowed, there and then, to restore it. They had a child. They both had their own families and friends. They were not one person, though he knew they were of one soul. This sorrow needed to end, and he would make sure it did.

Callie knew he was thinking and feeling much, and she allowed him to do so, knowing he needed it. Then, impulsively, more tenderly than she would have thought possible, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. It was a both a huge relief from the pain and incredibly romantic. She held onto him, arms around his neck, and gazed into his deep, dark eyes, ones she had gotten lost in a thousand times, feeling shy suddenly, a small blush coming to her cheeks as she bit her lip. A small smile of complete understanding made its way to his lips. They stayed like that for several minutes in silence, not needing any words, just each other's embrace, the gazes into each other's eyes...souls. Then, light as a feather, he touched his nose to hers, kissed her softly, and helped her lay down. Yes, Frank knew that there were many ways to make love, and not all of them involved the actual act.

By the time she was safely back in bed and Frank had tucked her in, she was exhausted: her heart was full, but her body was screaming in pain.

"So you're going to your parents, right?" she asked him with a pale smile, holding his hand tightly.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied with a wink . "I should have known better than to argue with you."

"I've told you that since we were 15," she managed, eyes heavy.

"I'm a guy. It takes awhile for things to settle in," he joked.

"Understood," she murmured weakly. She rubbed his wedding ring mindlessly, finding it comforting.

"Cal?" he asked, and she heard the tenderness in his voice, saw the love in his eyes.

"Hmmm?"

"I'll owe you a glass of champagne on this, but can we pretend to toast? To living in the moment and relinquishing control." He smiled at her.

"To our family- together. Always," she added. "I love you to the moon and back," she whispered, something she and Frank always told JJ.

"Happy New Year, my strong, independent, incredible girl," he said to her, and leaned down to kiss her lips tenderly.

She knew that Frank wouldn't leave her until she was finally asleep, until her parents arrived, because she was still scared to sleep alone. But she would do it-because she had to. And she couldn't be afraid anymore. She remembered at once: " _It's time to quit being a victim and be a survivor". Yes, it was. Good night, Johnny. Happy New Year in Heaven._

The last thing she remembered was Frank sitting next to her and holding her as she drifted off to sleep, feeling safe, secure, warm in his arms, and dreaming of a new beginning, knowing that she was literally surrounded by his love.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe was completely shocked when Frank came waltzing through the door, bags of food in his hand. He had been playing with JJ when the door opened, and JJ looked up and started with "Dada!" as he crawled quickly to Frank. Frank put the bags of food on the floor and bent down to pick up JJ. "Hey buddy!" he said, kissing him, and JJ put his hand on Frank's shoulder and pointed to Joe. "Unca…"

Frank laughed as Laura came in, kissed his cheek, and took the bags of food, raising her hands in surprise.

"Hey mom. Hey Joe," he said. To JJ, he said, "Yes, little guy. I see Uncle Joe."

"What are you doing here?" Fenton asked, coming out of the kitchen. "And what's with all the food? Wait. Is Callie okay?" he asked, concerned.

"Dad, would I be here with bags of food and in a good mood if Callie wasn't okay?" he asked. "And am I not invited?"

"Of course you're invited, sweetheart," Laura answered, hugging him around the waist. "We just- we didn't expect you."

"Well," Frank answered, hugging Laura around the shoulders, "Callie insisted I come here to spend New Year's Eve with my family. Plus, I took the liberty of calling a few people- hope you don't mind-" he paused apologetically. "Not everyone could come, but Biff and Karen are coming, so are Pat and Marissa and Chet and Robyn. I hope you have enough food for everyone, because these bags are for Chet," he teased.

"What?!" Fenton asked. This was totally out of character for his son, and he was confused. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Oh, hush, Fenton," Laura chastised him, pleased. "Sweetie, that'd be fine- sure thing. It'll be nice to see everyone here. Is Callie-"

"She's with my in-laws. She's okay- really."

"Mama!" JJ called out, recognizing Callie's name, and Frank laughed and kissed him again.

"Mama," he confirmed.

As Fenton and Laura started prepping for the new guests, Frank plopped on the couch next to Vanessa and threw an arm around her, as JJ crawled right back to Joe, who scooped him up in his one arm.

"How ya doin', sis?" he asked her.

Vanessa's mouth dropped open. Frank NEVER called her 'sis'. That was a Joe and Callie thing, totally. "Well, I'm just fine, _bro_ ," she said with a laugh. "Apparently not as good as you, but…"

Frank smiled. "See? Now you get to spend time with the good looking and SMART brother," he said with a wink.

Vanessa burst out laughing. This was definitely NOT the Frank she knew- well, the Frank she knew most of the time, at least. This was the Frank that Joe had told her about for years, the one she had glimpsed only recently.

"Okay, Hottie Hardy…"

"Hey!" Joe interrupted with a laugh.

Vanessa smiled, stood up, walked to Joe and scooped up JJ, kissing his neck and making him laugh. "I'm going to bring the little man inside so we can help grandma and grandpa get some food ready, okay?" she asked. "Catch up. Do your man thing. I'll be back, smarty pants," she said to Frank, as she blew Joe a kiss.

Joe stood up and walked to his brother, and then sat next to him. The brace he had worn since the surgery was finally the lighter one, and he was starting, slowly, to get his mobility back. In two months, he should be healed completely, and he couldn't wait. "What on earth got into you?" Joe asked, happy to see his brother and surprised by the lightness of his aura.

Frank rolled his eyes. "Can't a guy visit his family on a holiday?" he asked.

"Uh… you're not with Callie," Joe pointed out.

"I know," he said, simply. "And it's okay."

Joe looked at him dubiously. "Did you guys get in a fight or something?" he asked.

Frank looked at him, genuinely surprised. "No. Why would you think that?"

Joe went to reply, and then found he didn't know what to say. How could he explain to Frank that he was ALWAYS with Callie, that you never saw one without the other, especially this last year? All he could manage was, "Well, you know, I mean… you're usually together, and she's in the hospital. How is she, by the way?"

"She's in pain. She has a long way to go, but she's fighting. And I think it's okay if we're not together all the time. We discussed it."

Joe was shocked by Frank's candor; his openness. Then, a terrible thought dawned on him and he gasped. "Wait- you guys- I mean, you're not. No. Never mind."

"Not what?" Frank asked, flummoxed.

"Like…" Joe blushed. No way.

"YES?" Frank asked, amused.

"Not separating or anything, right?" He tried to play it off as a joke; it was outrageous. But why would Frank be here?

Frank's eyes grew wide. He answered after a minute. "Joe," he said, gently, "wow. I didn't realize how much we probably _have_ shut people off. Callie and I were literally just discussing this. I'm really sorry."

Joe didn't know how to answer. "I… no. I mean, I get it, Frank. I promise I do. It's been an awful year. Of course you should be together."

"Joe," Frank replied honestly, looking down, "I love Callie. I mean, obviously. But we have our own lives, together and apart. We talked about this a little in a different context before," he reminded Joe, gently. "And Callie and I spoke earlier and she reminded me of a lot of things. I'm sorry about pulling away. I know I have and I didn't mean to. So, if next year you want to hang out more, just the two of us, I'm all for it. I mean," Frank blushed, "I'd like it, actually."

Joe felt a smile tug at his lips. "Yeah. I mean, you know- that'd be cool." He gave Frank a little shoulder punch as a joke.

Frank just smiled.

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Alan Cotnig watched in the shadows as visitor upon visitor arrived at Fenton Hardy's home, and it looked like a full house.

The officers outside the house thought they were so diligent, but even they were relaxing, chatting with each other as they sipped coffee. They even went, periodically, into the Hardy home, laughing and joking with the people inside.

Their guard was down. It was perfect.

He reached out for his throwaway phone, texted Rangers. Waited. He looked down. Good. He was in position outside the Bayport PD, ready. Police precincts were always so sparse on holidays, officers on patrol, excessive drunks on the road, accidents. The problems happened outside, not in the actual buildings.

As soon as he was finished there, he would join him here. And then, they'd depart, with Hardy and Collig, back to the scene of the crime- the cabin he had in upstate New York, not ten miles from where the incarceration facility had burned to the ground, destroying his life. It was totally off the grid, yet close enough to remind him each day of what Collig and Hardy had done to him. The ideal spot, hidden in plain sight.

It would be soon now. A few more hours, at most. He'd waited almost twenty years, so a few more hours wouldn't kill him. It would kill THEM. He smiled at the thought.

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Ezra Collig yawned. Still an hour to go before midnight. He'd already called his wife and kids, his grandchildren, and wished them an early Happy New Year, knowing they'd all be sound asleep soon.

He wished he could be.

He hated this holiday. All promises for a new year, all resolutions, dropped before the first week was over. That part he could deal with- each year did bring a certain amount of hope, he would admit that. But people got crazy on the roads tonight. This, and Super Bowl Sunday, seemed to bring out every closet alcoholic in the world.

He checked his iPad idly. It had been a gift from Fenton for his 63rd birthday this year, which was ironic, considering how Fenton carried the most antiquated technology around, and even more ironic given what a technology whiz his eldest son was. He hadn't known what to do with the newfangled thing, but his six year old grandson had given him a few lessons, and now he had to admit- it was kind of cool. That damned "Angry Birds" game was addicting.

He'd used it in the last few days to watch some shows, to surf the net, to buy a nice necklace for his wife, and to send Callie Hardy flowers at the hospital. He'd even found a great book called "Listening to Your Elders: The Importance of Respecting Authority" and had immediately ordered a copy to be sent to Joe Hardy, chuckling as he did so. Then, on second thought, he'd ordered one for young Officer Merkel, who was, he suspected, quite the mischief maker, himself.

He did enjoy both Hardy kids immensely. Joe was a pain in his ass, a real pisser, but he reminded him of his own son, Glenn, who pushed every boundary given. He was as tough on Joe as he was on Glenn, and he thought Joe was top-notch and pretty hilarious, though he'd never tell him that. And Frank was one of the smartest, most genuinely good kids he had ever known, a kind person to the core, yet tough as nails, no pushover; he could throw down with the best of them. They made a good pair, those two. It had been fun watching them grow up, fall in love, start families.

He was distracted and didn't hear the door open.

"Chief?" a young officer came into his office. "There's a package for you out front. Needs to be signed by you personally. The delivery guy is here."

Ezra swore under his breath. He could only imagine. A court summons? A lawsuit? Personnel complaint? Happy Freaking New Year.

When he entered the main wing, he saw a delivery guy with an envelope.

"Chief Collig?" the man asked.

"Yes?" he asked with a sigh.

"You've been served." He pulled out a gun, pulled the trigger. Then everything went black.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fenton smiled as he threw the empty pizza boxes in the recycling bin by the garage door and got to work on the glass bottles of wine and beer and the plastic bottles of water. What would take him ten minutes now would take an hour later, so he didn't mind. It was like shoveling a little at a time before you got snowed in.

There was still a half hour to go until the New Year, and he glanced happily through the front window. Biff was whooshing JJ all around the room, playing "Superman Baby". Laura and Andrea were serving drinks and appetizers. Joe was dancing with Vanessa; Frank and Pat and Chet were laughing about something, and the girls were either dancing or singing to whatever new band was playing at the New Year's Rockin' Eve Party on NBC. The only person missing was Callie, but he had spoken with Robert Shaw, and she was sleeping soundly, continuing what would, no doubt, be a long and painful recovery. But she was alive, thank God.

The new year held many blessings in store.

He had just about finished the sorting, a smile playing softly on his lips, when he felt it, an explosion to his right arm, a hit not intended to kill. Before he could react, he felt a blow to his head.

And then nothing.


	30. Chapter 30

**Note:** _After this, only two more chapters to go! Thank you again for reading and following the story. I also very much appreciate each and every review that I have received. Since the last chapter, thank you to the following people who have left comments: hbndgirl, sm2003495, ulstergirl, Caranath, Erin Jordan, Hero 76, max 2013, BeeBee 18, Evergreen Dreamweaver, BMSH, Paulina Ann, and Penlew. Feedback truly makes my day! I'm sad that the story is coming to a close soon, but I hope you enjoy it!_

 _Warning: Cursing. Collig isn't happy.;)_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 30

"Happy New Year!" All around voices called out the words, as everyone started laughing, hugging, kissing, and blowing the silly plastic horns that Joe had brought over earlier.

Frank finished his text to Callie, complete with heart and party emojis, knowing she would see it in the morning, and he hit "send." He stood, balancing an overtired JJ in his arms, and quickly joined in the revelry. He made it a point to kiss Vanessa on the cheek and to give Joe a hug, a comical feat since both of them had one arm unavailable at the moment.

"Love you, big brother," Joe said, a happy smile on his face as he looked down and gently rubbed JJ's back. "I love you too, JJ," he said, but JJ was on the verge of tears, a big frown on his face as he stuck out his lower lip and his face got red.

Frank gently rocked him, whispering "shhh" soothingly. "Love you, too," he told Joe before Biff came up behind Joe, wrapped his arms around him, and said, "If you want to kiss me, sexy boy, now's as good a time as any."

"Shhh. Later, man- I told you," Joe joked, and Biff laughed, proceeding to hug Vanessa.

Frank looked around. He didn't see his parents, which wasn't unusual, as they liked the background, except that everyone else seemed to be in the living room. He made his way to the kitchen, where he found his mom putting away the dishes.

"Happy New Year, Mom," he said, and went over to give her a kiss and another one armed hug.

'Happy New Year, honey," Laura replied, a sparkle in her blue eyes. "Thank you for coming, and for bringing everyone here. I miss you," she said, wistfully, "and I don't see my little boy often enough."

Frank smiled, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze. "I'll make sure you see JJ as often as you'd like," he said.

"I wasn't talking about JJ," she replied with a wink. She reached over and picked up the fussy baby from Frank, then took a seat on the kitchen chair. Somehow, within a few minutes, she had JJ asleep. "Too much noise and excitement," she explained. "He'll be a terror tomorrow!" Her eyes shone with love as she looked at the baby. "He's so beautiful, so perfect," she told him, voice tender.

Frank sat across from her. "I miss you too, mom," he told her, truthfully. "I have to make it a point to slow down a little. It's one of my "resolutions" this year." He made an air quote gesture with his hands. Then, more seriously, he added, "I'm sorry about the stress that Joe and I put you and dad under this year I want you to know I take responsibility for that. Joe and I are fine- it's done- but it was a dark time. And- I mean, I understand why you were on Joe's side."

Laura looked up, surprised. "I never said that," she responded."Not at all."

"You didn't have to, ma." Frank got up, walked over, and put his arm around her. "I know that Joe's your baby. I actually understand that. He won me over a long time ago, too. And I know that you and Vanessa are close and a little gossipy…" He paused, letting her know that he had somehow figured out where all the speculation with Johnny had started, and Laura blushed, ashamed.

"BUT," he emphasized, "you are an amazing grandma and the best mother, and I hope one day that you and Callie will really get closer, not just superficially, but like with Vanessa." He smiled kindly, letting her know it was okay, but that he had a point to make. "Mom, we don't all wear our hearts on our sleeves. And we are not all open books about our pasts. In case you don't know this, there are things about me and Joe that you and dad don't need or want to know. But Callie is as genuine and amazing and..." his voice gave out a bit as he struggled to put into words what he really wanted to say. "I hope you get to know her better, and don't judge what you don't know, okay? If you really knew her...you would adore her." He looked down, a slight blush of embarrassment? jealousy? fierce protectiveness? coming to his cheeks.

"Oh, honey," Laura replied, fighting tears, "I _do_ love her. And I love you. I was totally out of line with Vanessa. I didn't know she would say anything, but it was still wrong."

"She didn't say anything," Frank answered. " _You_ just did." He gave her a wink. "It wasn't hard to figure out."

Laura continued to blush. Frank was being kind, but she did feel terrible. "I'm sorry, honey. I owe you both an apology."

Frank squeezed her hand. "It's done, mom. And just because I figured out it was you doesn't mean that Callie did, so don't even bring it up to her. You have a right to talk to Vanessa privately, and I don't blame you for that. Just please- if you ever have a question, or something you need to know, talk to me- right to me. A wise woman once taught me that when I was about eight."

"You're right," Laura agreed, looking into her son's beautiful eyes. He had always held so much in, but he was a kind, wonderful, strong and giving young man, the rock of the family, and she could not have loved him more. While she had always been a bit closer to Joe, she, like everyone in the family, adored Frank, and he would always be her little boy.

"I love her, mom, more than I could ever express." He took a deep breath, feeling both uncomfortable since it had been so long since he'd had a heart-to-heart with his mom, and strangely relieved and happier. "You taught me a lot about how to treat people, and, you know, how to treat women. I think Joe and I turned out pretty okay thanks to you, and I miss talking to you. But I have to trust that you trust me still. I know you were just looking out for me, but, mom?" He looked into her eyes, and she was immeasurably touched by his openness and depth of feeling. "She didn't luck out with me. I lucked out with her. She's only the second girl I've ever given my heart to and loved." He gave her another quick wink and kissed her cheek. "And I'll do anything to protect her. Mom," Frank went on, "you raised me right- me AND Joe. I know dad 'gets' me more, and I know that Joe charms everyone, me included, but I wanted to tell you- you know I love you a lot. I'll try to do you proud, and maybe we can reconnect a little more this year."

"I would love that, sweetheart," she replied, cradling JJ next to her. "But don't you think for a minute that I love you one iota less than Joe. I couldn't divide my heart like that. You are the kindest, strongest person I have ever known, and you ALWAYS 'do me proud.'" She replied back with a one -handed air-quote and chuckled.

Frank smiled. "We're good, then. I'm lucky to have you. Hey," he added, after he gave his mom a final hug, "where's dad?" He looked at his watch. 12:15.

"I don't actually know," Laura replied. "He's not inside?"

"Haven't seen him," Frank answered, looking around.

At that moment, Pat and Joe came into the kitchen, completely serious, all the joy of the prior 15 minutes washed away. Pat didn't mince words. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hardy," he said, but he looked right at Frank. "There was a shooting at headquarters. Collig was taken somehow. And we just received word from Derek," he referred to the officer who had been outside the house, "that your dad is missing, too. Derek was knocked out-shot- he's on the way to the hospital now. This all just happened. We have to go."

"Oh my god," Laura gasped, panicked.

"It's okay, mama," Joe said as he placed his hand on her shoulder in comfort. "We'll get him. And everything's gonna end- tonight. I promise."

Frank looked at him. How could he make a promise-

And then he got it. Yeah. It WOULD end tonight. Because he and Joe were back-together-on the same team, and they had yet to lose.

"Van will stay here. The girls are going home- Chet will make sure they get back safely. Pat and Biff are coming with us."

"How will you know where to look?" Laura asked, swallowing the lump in her throat as she held JJ closer.

"Because, ma'am," Pat said politely, but directly, "we have the entire police force of Bayport and every surrounding area on it right now."

"But Joe," Laura implored, seeing Vanessa over his shoulder, "you said Cotnig doesn't make mistakes."

"He doesn't, mama," Joe replied honestly. "But his partner did. Todd Rangers didn't realize that you can't just escape undetected from a police station. Cameras were everywhere."

"And he didn't count on one simple thing," Pat assured her.

She looked up, fighting tears.

"Chief Collig is a brilliant man, but he's an idiot with technology. No offense, but your husband isn't too good, either. When he got the iPad for Collig, he didn't know what to do with it, so he had Frank set up everything, right?" He looked at Frank.

Slowly, it dawned on him, and a smile made its way to his face."Yes," Frank replied. "That's right. And I put every app in creation that he might use on it, including "Find my Friends," The GPS locator. Joe asked me to- he thought he could prank Collig one day with it. You have the signal?" he asked, incredulous.

"Hell yeah we do," Pat replied, then, seeing Laura, he corrected himself. "Apologies, ma'am. We surely do. Apparently, the Chief is a closet fan of "Angry Birds" and takes the iPad with him wherever he goes. He must have stuffed it in his uniform shirt- we have a lot of pockets. In any case, we're in pursuit now. And, with your permission, I would like to take your sons with me so they can see this thing through. It'll be okay. We'll get him. We DO have to go, though."

Laura nodded numbly. She knew she had to call Ezra's wife, as she must already be aware of everything and would need support. Gently, Vanessa lifted JJ from her arms, having quietly entered the kitchen. Then, in quick succession, first Pat, then Biff, then Frank, then Joe, all gave Laura a hug and a kiss.

And then, they were gone.

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"Uhhhh," Fenton moaned as he woke up slowly. It took him a few minutes to adjust, but he could tell he was in some sort of van. The floor was hard- there were no seats or windows- and, by the way he was being thrown all over, he could sense they were going very fast. It took him another minute to realize his hands were cuffed behind him. It was incredibly painful, as his left arm felt as if it was on fire, and, he noticed as he glanced down, it was covered in blood and still bleeding. His head throbbed.

"Fenton?" Collig's voice cut through the darkness. "You okay?"

At that moment, they hit a huge pothole, leading both men to curse as they were slammed against the side of the vehicle.

"Ezra?" Fenton managed at last. "I can barely see you. Are you okay?"

"I asked first," Collig replied.

"I… I don't know what happened. It was at my house. I was outside and then- someone shot me. My left arm," he replied, stifling a moan. "Then I was hit in the head. Now- we're here."

"I was at the station," Collig replied, wincing himself. "I think I have cracked rib or two. Son of a bitch shot me, but the idiot forgot I wear a bulletproof vest. I don't think he cared- he just wanted to grab me." He was sweating, his own arms handcuffed behind him. It was hard to breathe.

"Cotnig?" Fenton asked.

"No. The other guy. I didn't recognize him at first, but it was Rangers. Freaking white collar criminals have piss poor aim."

Fenton felt a laugh escape him despite himself. "You should probably be grateful for that, Ezra," he managed. "Don't hire him for the force."

"I'm getting a little too old for this shit," he told Fenton.

"You and me both, my friend," Fenton said.

"This kidnapping and shooting and chasing the bad guys is for your sons. They can handle this. Although I will kick his ass, butt, cheeks, derriere- give him his f-cking ABC order right back."

Fenton laughed. Despite the pain, the absolute seriousness of the situation, Ezra Collig was as ornery as ever, and he was a tough cop still, took absolutely no nonsense. And he was pissed about what had happened to his wife, what had been done to his own family. Despite his complaining, Fenton knew Ezra was deadly serious.

"This is going to end tonight," Fenton replied, again steadying his breathing to ignore the pain.

"Yes, it will," Collig replied. "What's the plan?"

"Plan?!" Fenton asked, incredulous. He knew why Ezra liked Joe so much- at moments like this, he was just like him. "Ezra, I have no plan right now. Try not to bleed to death, for starters."

"You're the damned detective," Ezra snapped, frustrated.

Fenton sighed.

"I'm sorry," Collig replied immediately. "It's just that I'm not used to finding it hard to breathe, and I know what we're up against. I have absolutely no way to prepare."

"We'll think of something," Fenton replied, fighting the queasiness he was feeling. "I want him," he added, suddenly. "He has systematically tried to destroy my family. This is my fight."

"You've got it," Collig added. "But let's just say it's OUR fight. This has always been about us. Fen, not one more person will be hurt or die because some madmen want revenge on us. For doing our job. For fighting the good fight. This is the biggest battle we have ever faced. But Old New York cops are tough bastards."

"We are," Fenton replied. He closed his eyes, trying to assess the situation, analyze the pattern, assimilate everything he knew about Cotnig and Rangers, personality characteristics he could use to his advantage.

Collig took shallow breaths. He considered tactical maneuvers, physicality, weapons.

They had always made a good team, different in their approaches, with the end game the same.

They sat in silence... and waited.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As Pat raced the patrol car through the streets, covering his designated route, Biff sat in the passenger seat. For once, they were quiet, focused and determined to meet their end goal.

In the backseat, Joe glanced at his brother, who was quiet, himself, eyes closed, hands clasped.

"Frank- you awake?" he asked, surprised that his brother would have fallen asleep with everything going on.

Frank opened his eyes immediately and looked at Joe. "Yeah- of course. Just thinking."

"Care to share?" Joe queried. "You looked a little out of it."

Frank gave a small smile. "To be honest, I wasn't thinking. I was trying NOT to think, actually. I want to go in with a clear mind, be calm, be one with the environment, see if I can extract some sort of meaning from the minutia around me."

Joe chuckled. "You sound like a philosophy professor," he joked.

Frank smiled and shook his head.

"So what do you think of when you're not thinking?" Joe asked, just to pass the time.

Frank shrugged. "Ignoring your paradox there, not too much. I try to get centered; try not to think of how ugly this could get. I think I'm starting to realize that worrying so much is pretty ineffectual."

"I could have have told you that years ago!" Joe responded, shocked at Frank's change of demeanor tonight. "See, Mr. Ivy league? Told you who had the real brains in the family," he teased.

Frank didn't take the bait, and met Joe's eyes. "You're a lot smarter than me in a lot of things, Joe. Math isn't one of them," he joked back slightly, but then became more serious. "You had life figured out a long time ago. You know what's important, and you could always trust yourself. I think I tried to overachieve because I didn't have what you did- an instinct for things- so I had to analyze everything from every angle. More often than not, I came up with the same answer you did- just way after the fact. I wish I could be more like you."

Joe was taken aback. Frank was being so forthright and honest and what he was saying really hit home. "Nah," Joe played it off after a few minutes. "I do everything bassackwards," he admitted. "And not thinking has almost gotten me killed any number of times. This whole case-"

"What?" Frank asked, surprised when Joe had stopped.

"It threw me," Joe admitted. "I messed up; I really did. I can't believe I was wrong about Grant. I never- you know- I guess I never thought I could be wrong about a gut feeling." He felt a flush come to his cheeks, and could no longer meet Frank's eyes.

He felt Frank reach over and touch his arm, and he looked back up.

"Joe," Frank replied with a sympathetic smile, "Yeah, you were wrong. So what? You used your logic to figure out a lot of things that I had missed. And you know what drove me the whole case? Not logic- the opposite of it. I was acting totally on instinct, and my logic and reasoning was off. This has been a hell of a case, the worst of my life. But maybe it's taught us some valuable lessons. You are so much smarter than you think you are, and I'm way more emotional than I thought I was, too. But I never," he took a deep breath before continuing, "I NEVER want to be on the opposite side of you again. No matter what. I love you."

Joe felt his eyes burn with tears. "I love you too," he said quietly.

"You know," Pat cut in from the front seat as he zigzagged along the street, "Biff? I've been meaning to tell you that I love you, man. No matter what. I can't hold it in any longer."

"I believe you," Biff replied, deadpanned. "I'm a fine piece of ass."

Joe snorted and Frank started laughing.

"Now stop the freaking lovefest in the back seat!" Pat said with a laugh. "It's time to get all cave man and macho and open a can of whoop ass and all that shit."

"To opening a can of whoop ass," Joe replied, tipping an imaginary glass.

"For dad," Frank said quietly, and slowly everyone settled down again.

"Definitely, man," Biff replied. "Let's get 'em."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fenton Hardy breathed hard as he tried to get his bearings. Some time ago, they'd stopped and pulled over. Before either he or Ezra could react, a sickly-sweet smelling rag had been placed over their mouths by two separate people simultaneously. Chloroform.

It could have been five minutes ago; it could have been hours. All he knew was that he was in some dark cabin, hands still cuffed behind his back. This time, though, he was strapped to a chair with rope around his arms and chest, and Ezra's chair was pulled up behind his as well. The chairs were cuffed together.

"Ezra! Ezra!" Fenton called out in a weak voice. He felt like hell. His head still throbbed, worse than before, and his arm was almost numb. He was most concerned about the amount of blood he must have lost, as he felt light-headed and off balance. Still, he tried to refocus. He had to.

"Hmmmm." Fenton heard Ezra's voice behind him. "Where in holy hell are we?"

"A cabin? Old house? I don't know," Fenton responded, dejectedly. He just needed to think, and he realized that he both needed time to do so and didn't have the time he would need.

A door opened, and he looked up. Ezra must have done the same. A dark haired, hazel -eyed man walked in first, his face neutral, his arms crossed. Behind him, a sinister figure even now, half burned, skin in patches of red or shriveled and scarred or blackened, walked Alan Cotnig.

He walked right up to Fenton Hardy. "Detective Hardy. Chief Collig," he rasped. "Welcome home."

"Rangers," he went on, "secure the perimeter. This is my time. And take care of the Chief. Mr. Hardy and I have a score to settle first."

As Collig fought against his ropes, Rangers grabbed an old bandana and wrapped it around Collig's mouth, rendering him unable to speak. He continued to fight, cracking his own ribs more, until he could barely breathe, and decided it was best to be quiet and still. He assessed the room- where he could go and what he could do if he could get loose. He watched, fighting the pain.

Todd Rangers picked up an assault rifle and headed out the door.

"Fenton Hardy," Cotnig rasped. "It's been a long time."

Fenton wracked his mind for a plan, and decided to use the only thing in his arsenal at the moment- psychoanalysis. He'd been studying this man for years. _Let him talk_ , he reminded himself.

"Yes," Fenton replied, simply. _Separate emotions from fact. Don't let hatred cloud your judgement._

Cotnig looked down on him, disfigured eyes studying his every move. "I outdid myself this time, don't you think?" he hissed out. "It was almost worth it to watch you suffer so much. Almost."

Fenton remained silent, realizing that Cotnig needed to brag about his conquests. Knowing it was coming, he tried to think ahead to respond. He kept his expression neutral.

"Do you now what it's like, Fenton Hardy," he started slowly, deliberately, "to have your flesh burned from your body? To feel yourself rot and smell your body curling into itself? Maybe you should."

Fenton didn't respond, continued to stare at him.

"No, of course you don't," he went on. "But you will." He walked to an opposite table, picked up a package of cigarettes and a lighter, and walked back to Fenton. "This is a start."

Fenton felt his heart hammering in his chest, felt his eyes grow wide. Cotnig slowly lit a cigarette… and put it in his mouth. _Puff. Puff._ He blew the smoke in Fenton's face as Fenton coughed.

"Didn't expect that, did you?" he croaked out. "That's the secret. Tell people the obvious. Hide it in plain view. Laugh in their faces. Reveal it in stages...and when they least expect it, do this." Immediately, he took the cigarette from his mouth and grinded the burning part into Fenton's neck. Startled and in pain, he screamed.

Finally, Cotnig stopped. Fenton thought he might be sick. He heard Collig moving behind him.

"Ashes. Burning. Cigarettes. ABC. Do you enjoy my games, Mr. Hardy?" He gave a small laugh. "Now magnify that by a thousand times. Then you might understand."

Fenton, sweating, looked up. If he was going to die, he'd make the bastard remember him. "You're nothing," Fenton spat out. "You're a scared little boy who didn't mean squat to his parents, so you needed attention. And you were good at nothing except playing games, so your game became to kill people. For fun. For attention."

"You have a lot to say for a dead man," Cotnig retorted venomously.

Fenton remained cool. His rage was starting to surface, though, and he could survive physical pain. Cotnig lived for attention, and he could use that against him. "How did it feel to have no one care about your little alphabet plot all those years ago?" he asked him, steadily. "All that planning, all those deaths. And no one remembered your name. Little Alan. Forgotten again."

Cotnig lit another cigarette, again burning Fenton's neck. He repeated it three more times. The pain was excruciating, but he did not scream. He felt Collig grab his hand from behind, warning him to shut up, but he wouldn't.

"Getting tougher, Hardy?" Cotnig questioned with a smile. "Admirable. Stupid, but admirable."

He got close to Fenton's face. "Did you enjoy my puzzles? Did you like how I ripped apart your sons? They're weak little boys, so easily manipulated. Your son's friend is dead. Coward. I made sure the papers knew that. And they will, still. The media is so fickle. Did you enjoy how I almost killed your wife? How easy it was to get to your sons and hurt them? Wasn't it just delightful to watch your daughters- in- law bleed...suffer… and the babies. My work isn't done. When you're dead," he whispered menacingly, "I will make sure your grandchildren, born and unborn, join you. Isn't that so nice of me?"

Fenton felt himself begin to separate from his own body, feeling rage the likes of which he could never have imagined. He would not let Cotnig break him. He could win, still.

"ABC games are for babies," Fenton hissed back. "And what you said you DID do to my family? How about this? Arid. Banal. Cliche. You like to think you're a literary giant, but you're no Agatha Christie. You're more Dr. Suess. See? That's my D."

Cotnig raged in fury. "I'll be back, Hardy. You can't beat me at my own game, you see. I don't lose. _Another Barrell. Carbon Dioxide. Ethanol. Fire. Good, Hardy? I just know. Light. Matches. Now... or perhaps, quixotic? Really, stay. Time unfolds vividly. Wait. Xeric. Yelling. Zenith!_ " Figure out that little puzzle, Hardy. And you and the Chief have exactly 26 minutes to figure out how you will die."

With one final puff of smoke, Cotnig turned from Fenton, rubbed his cigarette butt into Collig's neck, and smiled as Collig cried out through his gag. He reached back and undid the gag, letting it fall. "Chief. Far be it from me that I should prevent you the pleasure of hearing your own voice screaming for help."

He turned before he left. "Lest I should do a puzzle alone, without the beauty of literature connecting, here's your hint from the great Mr. Shakespeare. How perfectly it applies here. "One fire burns out another's burning; / One pain is lessened by another's anguish." *Tick tock. 24 minutes to go…"

Fenton could only stare after him in horror.

*William Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_ (Act I, scene ii).


	31. Chapter 31

**Note:** _Thank you again for the support that you have given to me and this story, and for all of the reviews and PM's, the majority of which were and are always so positive. So many of you have also offered me great suggestions, which often do end up in this story (you know who you are). To that end, many thanks to the following people who have left reviews since the last chapter: Moon in Scorpio, Fenlaur, BeeBee 18, hlahabibty, sm2003495, ulstergirl, BMSH, hbndgirl, Paulina Ann, Erin Jordan, max 2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, and Hero 76. I shall post the almost 9,000 word (honestly! went a little crazy there) conclusion to this story on Thursday or Friday of next week, which I hope you'll enjoy. :)_

 _Warning: Some cursing_

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 31

"Where the hell ARE we? Joe asked as they screeched to a stop at the outskirts of a large, wooded area a good two hours from Bayport. It was close to 3:00 a.m., yet the adrenaline from the night before had not ceased flowing. He looked at the window as sirens screamed all around him, watched as police cruisers sped fast, saw ambulances and firetrucks making their way up the northern perimeter.

"We," Pat said steadily, keeping his eyes locked in front of him, "are within 5 miles of the signal." Pat indicated for everyone to wait, and proceeded to make several calls, both on his phone and on the secret police radio channel. Having been off duty, he didn't have full access to all of the information with him, but he was doing a good job assimilating all of the various reports and plans.

Joe looked at his friend as Biff spoke quietly with Frank. It was funny, in a way, to see Pat, who was always so laid back and chill, so smart-ass and up for adventure, to remain so cool and professional. Joe could always tell that he had been good at his job: he genuinely loved "getting the bad guys,", really liked helping people, and saw his brothers in blue as his own family. He was a cop from a family of cops, a long line of tradition and excellence, and, once again, Joe was reminded of how blessed he was to have friends who would literally do anything for and with him. He was pretty sure they knew that he would do exactly the same thing for them.

"Okay- you heard it," Pat said at last, once the radios had gone silent. "There's a perimeter set up around the area; the roads are blocked. The FBI agents are working on finding the exact location and they're going in with several troopers. The troops also are sending out a helicopter. The local PD has the roadways secured. We'll get them. Ready?" he asked.

"What are we supposed to do? Are we allowed to go in?" Biff asked.

"Hell, no, you're not _allowed_ to go in," Pat answered, a grin appearing on his face. "But, I mean, hey- if we HAPPENED to stumble upon something and get there first, then so be it."

Biff laughed, but Pat held up a hand. "You can't go," he said seriously. "I mean it. Frank and Joe can- they're licensed and they have guns with them. You don't. My luck, you'd get your ass shot and then I'd be in a lot of trouble. What you COULD do, though, is to listen to the radio frequency I was on. Call any one of us if you hear any updates- let us know which direction to head towards. Can I count on you for that?" Pat asked, getting into action-mode.

Biff went to protest, but Joe placed a hand on his arm. "Pat's right," he assured Biff. "We really do need you to do this. I promise, man- I'll call you if you can do anything, but this would be a big help."

"Fine," Biff grumbled, and Joe squeezed his arm.

Only moments later, eyes determined, guns ready, Frank, Joe, and Pat were swallowed up in the darkness, tracking a signal in the dark.

Biff went to the car, found the radio signal, and listened. Nothing. Then he stretched, rubbed his hands together for warmth, counted to 100, and set out after them. Gun or no gun, he'd be damned if he was going to let his friends go into this alone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Know what I'm worried about?" Ezra asked Fenton only a moment after Cotnig left the room.

"I can think of any number of things," Fenton mumbled. The burn marks were painful, the blood loss from his arm making concentration difficult.

"Rangers."

"What?" Fenton asked. "Ezra, in about 20 minutes, Cotnig is going to set this whole place to blow- with US in it. Why the hell are you worried about Rangers?"

"My boys and girls," Collig said quietly. "They'll find us. I have a hell of a department. I know the finest people and they will not give up until they track us down. Even if we're dead, Fen, I can't have those good kids gunned down by some lunatic."

"He'll be long gone by then," Fenton responded. "You said it yourself- piss poor aim. He's a white collar criminal, a hacker. He'll be scared shitless and run."

"No," Collig replied. "Something doesn't fit. For a white collar guy, he went blue collar real fast. This damned case has more twists and turns than a rollercoaster. For all I know, he's the third cousin, twice removed from David Cotnig's estranged aunt's brother's ex-landlord's roommate."

Fenton snorted despite himself. "Okay, Ezra. That's all well and good, but one thing at a time. Can you get any leeway at all with these ropes and cuffs?" he asked. "Maybe we can start there."

"Maybe," Collig grunted as he worked against the rope. "Wait. Can you reach the cuff of my uniform sleeve?'

"Why?" Fenton asked as he tried. His left arm was almost numb and was slick with blood, but his right arm had a bit of maneuverability.

"If you can pull the button off my sleeve, it's got a pin on the back. Maybe if you can pull it off, we can use it to jimmy the lock on my handcuff and get open," he huffed."It could be a bit of an arduous process."

Fenton was sweating. Five minutes had to have passed already. "Do we have time for that?" he asked.

"Do we have a choice?" Collig retorted.

 _No, they didn't._ Fenton sighed, trying to concentrate and be logical. It was fighting him every step of the way. He got to work. 14 minutes left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There! Look!" Frank whispered as he stopped so quickly that Pat ran right into him.

"What?" Joe asked, almost tripping over them both.

"You can barely see it," Frank said in a low voice, "but is that a cabin or something in the distance?"

Joe strained his eyes and, at last, finally saw it. "Got it."

Pat picked up his personal radio. "I'm gonna trust you," he said in a flat voice. "I can't see a thing. I think I need glasses, man." He radioed the information, checked the signal and waited for confirmation. He got it less than three minutes after. "They're moving in," he told Frank and Joe. "It'll be under ten minutes."

"Okay," Frank replied, assessing the situation.

"What do you guys say about seeing if we can't get there first?" Joe asked, reaching for his gun.

"Let's go," Frank agreed.

"Guys," Pat cautioned, though he strode right next to them, "be careful. We don't know what we're walking into. And you don't want to get shot by one of the good guys coming in who thinks you're one of the bad ones. If you're told not to run or to put your hands up, do it. Capeesh?"

"Capeesh," Joe answered.

They started running through the cold, dark night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alan Cotnig sauntered into the room, eyes glaring at the two men whom he'd obsessed over for years. It was time to enact his revenge, all the sweeter now that they knew what he had done to them, to their families. Everything had led to this moment, and he would make them suffer as he had suffered, himself. He was unequivocal in his conviction.

This time, though, there would be no more torture, mental or physical. This time, they would die. And he would watch them, watch their faces as they cried out in pain. He had won.

He walked in front of Fenton Hardy, whose head was down. "Hardy!" he hissed, but he didn't look up. No-this wouldn't do.

"Leave him alone, you bastard," Collig spat out. "The blood loss was too much for him. He passed out. Leave him be."

Cotnig walked over to Collig and smiled. "Chief Collig, how noble of you. Perhaps you'd like to watch him die first. Give me a moment."

He walked away, slowly, methodically, grabbing the cans of gasoline and throwing the gas all over the perimeter of the room, making sure to surround both Fenton and Ezra. His companions had tried this once before, but they had failed to kill. Fools. They had to die by fire, needed to feel the pain they had put him through, his daily reminder of his motive for revenge.

Fire. F-I-R-E. A beautiful word, for it contained within it all he represented: his **IRE** , for **I** mmediate **R** evenge, **F** enton and **E** zra. Scramble the letters or keep them the same.. Pain pain pain pain pain pain pain. Yes.

Again, he stood in front of Collig. "Goodbye, Chief. Rot in…"

At that moment, Collig pushed out his legs, which had been positioned to do so, and slammed them right into Cotnig. Surprised, Cotnig grunted and stumbled back. When he looked up, he felt fire in his eyes, revenge all consuming.

"Son of a b-ch!" he bellowed and raged forward, grabbing his gun and lunging for Collig. At the last minute, though, he was cut off by Fenton Hardy, who had somehow managed to get loose.

They slammed into each other, and Fenton grabbed the handgun that had been left behind from Rangers earlier. Collig managed to crawl the other way.

Fenton glowered at this man, this epitome of evil, who had wreaked havoc with his family and the lives of so many others. This murderer, this psychopath. He held his gun out, aimed it at Cotnig, who did the same. He could barely contain his rage. He thought of the young officer who had been driving his family, now in the hospital; his wife, his precious Laura, who had been injured. He saw Vanessa, bloodied and lost, missing for days; Callie, almost dead- twice- suffering immeasurable pain, the mother of his grandchild and soon to be grandchildren who almost had to watch her babies die… who still might; he saw Frank rushed to the hospital; Joe, bloody and beaten and near death twice; thought of Ezra's wife, poisoned; Gertrude, weak and in the hospital. His mind flashed to all of the people used as pawns in this insanity of a game: Chet, Biff, Tony, Don Anllow, Ezra. And of course, John Gellers, the fine young man who had died as a result of this insanity.

Sweat poured from his forehead, his arm throbbing under the effort to hold the gun steady.

He thought of the previous cases with Cotnig, all of the families and lives destroyed by obsession and compulsion, mixed with a twisted genius and evil. It was going to end now.

Alan Cotnig glared at him, sneering. Fenton Hardy would not ruin this moment. He was a phoenix, risen from the ashes, and it was his time to soar, not return to dust.

Cotnig saw Collig go to move and fired at him, and Fenton fired back, hitting Cotnig in the stomach.

Cotnig gasped, shocked, and fired back. Fenton Hardy screamed.

Good. He'd hit him.

"Fenton!" Collig called, horrified.

The room began to spin. No. No, it mustn't end this way. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the lighter, watched as Collig's and Hardy's eyes grew wide..

All around the perimeter of the cabin officers were rushing in. Helicopters swarmed above.

Joe, Frank, and Pat reached the cabin first, arriving just in time to see Fenton and Cotnig engaged in gunfire…

And the cabin burst into flames.

"No!" Joe cried out, and he rushed forward into the flames, knowing somehow that his brother and friend were beside him.

 _Shit_. This thing was going up fast. Windows were shattering, the flames starting to consume everything.

He saw Frank somehow get to his dad; saw Pat grab Collig. The smoke was thick. There was only one other person here. He saw Cotnig lying on the ground, writhing in pain. Joe coughed violently, struggling to breathe.

He should let him burn to death in hell. He hated this man every bit as much as the man who had taken Iola's life a decade ago. It was another fiery hell, and he was back there again.

It gave him satisfaction to watch him suffer, this soul-less bastard. But- damnit to hell, he couldn't leave him. It wasn't up to him to give final judgement against someone. His parents had taught him that, and, though he wasn't afraid to shoot and kill, he would do so only against a capable opponent, not a pathetic, barely conscious coward.

He grabbed Cotnig with his right arm, the only fully functioning one, and dragged him through the flames into the freezing night air. He saw no one else, though he thought he barely recognized voices in the distance. He dragged Cotnig as far back as possible, and Joe, himself, collapsed on the ground, coughing, eyes tearing, trying to catch his breath.

He just went to sit up when a round of bullets crashed into the ground right next to him, making him jump and scramble out of the way using the last bit of energy he had. _What the f-k_ i _s that?!"_ he thought, panicked.

A few more bullets whirred by, and one or more slammed into Cotnig, who, newly awakened, started howling in pain.

Joe gasped as he noticed Todd Rangers looking at him with hatred, an automatic rifle pointed right at his head. "One down, two-" he began, but was tackled from behind by Biff, who had come out of nowhere and knocked Rangers out with the force of his hit, the gun flying out of his hand. Joe got up on shaky legs and grabbed it.

He saw Biff grabbing handcuffs that he had on him, probably taken from Pat's car… or Walmart, Joe took a moment wryly to think… and begin to cuff Rangers.

In the meantime, Joe went over to Cotnig, who had become completely silent. He bent down and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He checked for any breathing. Nothing again.

He stood slowly, looking at this shriveled man who had created hell on earth for his family. He looked completely harmless. He was dead. Joe thought he'd feel hatred; he didn't expect to feel relief. Cotnig was dead. He was DEAD. And his family could finally be at peace.

He shook his head, spit on the ground next to Cotnig, and caught his breath. " **A** nother. **B** astard. **C** riminal. **D** ead." He smiled grimly at turning the whole alphabet game on this corpse.

"I can **E** asily supply the " **F** " word," Biff huffed as he came up to Joe, who hadn't realized he had spoken aloud.

Joe, overwhelmed by everything- Cotnig, the fire, almost dying, fear for his dad and Chief Collig, Frank and Pat, Biff's surprise appearance- just covered his mouth with his right hand and fought the tears and exhaustion that were starting to settle in.

To his utter astonishment, Biff just reached out to him and hugged him tightly. "I know, man. It's okay."

After a few minutes, Joe pulled back, having collected himself. "Thanks," he managed. "The freaking smoke makes your eyes water, you know?"

Biff smiled. "Definitely."

Joe suddenly realized all that he didn't know, but Biff sensed immediately what he was thinking.

"They're okay, Joe. Your dad was hit in his arm again; he's already lost a lot of blood. He'll be okay, though. I saw plenty of ambulances. Collig looked okay. Frank is with your dad and Pat's coordinating things with the local police. When I didn't see you, I decided to look. Damned good thing I did, huh?"

"I'll say," Joe admitted, relieved. Unable to help himself, he joked, "about time all those years that you spent on the football team and ignoring school really worked. See? It pays to have brawn and no brains."

Happy that Joe was getting back to normal, Biff slung an arm around Joe's shoulders as they headed back to the police.

"Happy New Year, you asinine idiot," he quipped lightly.

"Same to you," Joe replied, and, when Biff looked at him, not quite sure if he'd been insulted, Joe just laughed and pat Biff on the back.

It had been hell, but, finally… it was over.


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's note at end. This last chapter is LONG! ;) Enjoy.**

The Stages of Conviction

Chapter 32

Conclusion

Callie

 _Two and a Half Months Later- March 19th_

Callie sat on the bed at the hospital and checked her watch for the hundredth time. _He won't be late,_ she repeated, more to assure herself than anything else. She was so excited to leave. This was going to be the start of a nerve-wracking and incredibly scary and exciting week, and she just couldn't wait to begin it.

She picked up the mirror from the little stand beside her bed, and, finally, felt herself smile. The eyes that looked back at her were her own, but older, wiser, and with more understanding than they had had a year ago today, on JJ's day of birth. So much had happened since then.

As she continued to check her makeup, which she desperately missed wearing, she couldn't help but to think of the whirlwind of the past year. The months since Thanksgiving had been especially traumatic and trying, but she had survived, and she knew she would continue to, as long as she was meant to be here. She had awoken from a coma the week before Christmas and had just started to get her mind clear, her bearings, on New Years. And what a hell of a start to the year it had been. Finally, almost all of the pieces to the puzzle were complete. Cotnig was dead, her family was safe. There was hope.

Her doctors were bears, refusing to allow her to leave the hospital at all, ordering her to bed rest for the entirety of her pregnancy. She was allowed out of bed for under an hour a day, only to shower and go to the bathroom. For someone used to regular exercise, the lack of it was very hard to deal with. They would not listen to her pleading, insisting that she was an extraordinarily high risk pregnancy and the slightest bit of extra pressure, even if it was to take a few hours to travel to see doctors for checkups, would cause a severe strain on her, and anything could start her into early labor. So she had shut up and given in.

By the grace of God, somehow she had made it this far. The doctors had been right. She had had several close calls, but being at the hospital had probably saved her life and her child's life. It was boring as hell, but she had a constant stream of visitors. Frank brought JJ to see her at least once a day after dinner for an hour, and she couldn't have waited for that hour more- her precious daily gift. And how he had grown. He was learning more words, and, just two weeks ago, much to Frank's chagrin, he had started walking unsteadily and had apparently decided that he wanted to walk everywhere with everyone. It was the most adorable thing, and just holding him and playing with him for that one fleeting hour was what got her through.

Well, that, and, of course, every Friday night, when one of the grandparents or Joe and Van would watch JJ overnight, and Frank would come and spend the night with her. And it was wonderful. They'd play chess or board games, catch up on the week, and use the quiet time to laugh, reminisce, and reconnect. One night, she distinctly remembered, she and Frank had been flipping through the channels idly, cuddled together, and she had gasped. There, right on television, was one of Johnny's earliest television appearances. Apparently, now that his name had been cleared, several stations were running specials on his life. It was surreal- her best friend almost come to life again right in front of her. She hadn't seen this particular show on _Lifetime-_ \- there was a period where he had been so busy that even he had lost track of what he was doing- and she had watched, transfixed, as he lit up the screen: that gorgeous smile, those deep green eyes. She couldn't fully concentrate on the episode, as they had come across it halfway through. But she soon realized that Johnny was protecting a young woman, and, then, that he was a literal guardian angel. She closed her eyes as a sudden warmth spread through her, suddenly at peace and content. Frank's physical presence had only exacerbated that beautiful feeling.

When she eventually grew tired, just being in Frank's arms and feeling his love and support had re-invigorated her in ways she hadn't thought possible. And when he kissed her, chaste though now it had to be, it was like being 15 again, slowly and innocently falling in love with the the absolute most handsome and perfect boy she had ever seen. Only it was better, because she got to fall in love with him every day now: their families, their child, their experiences, their complete and utter knowledge of each other magnifying that love a hundredfold. She blushed now thinking of it.

He had changed. As surely as he had given his word to her that he would listen to her, he had. Her Frank was back, better, happier, with the sparkle and mischievous streak that had captivated her so long ago. Her perfect good boy, who always had that little edge that encapsulated Joe, had found his lighter, kind- of- mysterious, slightly bad-ass side again, and she was so excited to share it with him again.

Against everything she had thought he'd do, even with her in the hospital, he had managed to find time for friends again, started going out a little more. And, somehow, he managed to procure Super Bowl tickets, telling her only that they had strangely blown out of a truck's window and landed in his hands. He had gone away for three whole days with Joe, getting into who knew what sorts of trouble. Though he called her at least three times a day to check on her, to tell her he loved her, though he had felt guilty about leaving JJ, he had done it, and she had sensed a revitalization of him again. He was opening up more, being a little less guarded with others. They had both learned hard that life was meant to be enjoyed, not controlled.

She put the mirror down and took a deep breath, fighting the cramping that had begun in earnest. It was okay. Her doctors knew, though they were the only ones, and had given her permission to go home for a few hours today. She had learned to make a lot of decisions on her own now, and that was okay. Right now, she was starting with the very beginning of labor, and had scheduled the cerclage removal for tonight. She had selected Tuesday, two days from today, to have her C-section, and it was perfect: two days after JJ's birthday, a day after Iola's, and a day before Johnny's. What a beautiful sign from above that everything would be okay.

She was only 31 weeks along, but she had been taken care of, did not have the horror of JJ's birth to contend with. And, unable to exercise and being on a strictly regulated diet had allowed her to gain 22 pounds, far less than her doctors wanted, but more than she had gained with JJ- and now, though she weighed 128 pounds, more than she ever had, she loved it, since she was giving life to her child. She looked at her belly and smiled, could feel the life within her, and it almost brought her to tears every time as she savored that feeling. Whether it was a miracle from God or a miracle from science, she did not know, but this baby was a miracle for sure. She knew what was ahead this time; knew about the NIC-U. But she was prepared; she would not be frightened.

"I'm here!" Joe burst into the room with a flourish, carrying a bouquet of roses for her. "Sorry I'm late, but only 15 minutes. That's practically early for me!" Distracted, he placed bouquet on the tray, and then, when he saw her, his face broke out in a huge smile. "Don't you look beautiful," he said to her, voice unexpectedly tender.

Callie smiled back. "Want to help me up?" she asked. "I'm all belly. I swear, I don't know how Vanessa manages to be pregnant and look like a supermodel, and I have a huge balloon in my tummy."

Joe reached for her hand and gently helped her up, impulsively wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. They both laughed when her stomach prevented them from hugging as tightly as they otherwise would have.

"You've definitely popped!" Joe agreed as he kissed her cheek before pulling back. "But I told you once before-you are the cutest little pregnant person ever." He rested a hand on her stomach and affectionately patted it.

"Come on now, Joseph. You don't want me telling Van you said that," she teased.

"What?! You can tell her. She knows," he went right back at her. "And while you're the cutest thing ever, my wife is the freaking hottest pregnant woman alive!" he exclaimed, totally serious.

Callie laughed. "Okay. I'll accept the kind-of compliment," she replied, a sparkle in her eyes. "And I agree. Your wife is beyond gorgeous and I'll always be insanely jealous of her."

"You're not THAT ugly," Joe replied, deadpanned, and Callie chuckled as she rolled her eyes.

"You ARE that dumb," she answered.

"Look at you," he repeated again, and the way he said it made her blush. "You really do- you look amazing." He slipped an arm around her. "Thank God." He bent down and kissed the top of her head.

Callie remained quiet for a moment. She certainly hoped she looked okay. All of her life, she was used to dressing well, conservatively, never flaunting her looks. But she did like to look put together, was used to tailored pieces and name brands that lasted, never following one trend to another like Vanessa did-though Vanessa could wear a paper bag and look gorgeous. The past few months had humbled her in more ways than one. Her wardrobe had consisted of yoga pants and sweats, t-shirts, and sweatshirts. Her body was changing, she didn't wear makeup now-why would she? But she had learned that she was beautiful to JJ no matter what; that Frank looked at her with the same desire as he ever did. And once again Johnny's messages came to her in the most subtle of ways: _People are so shallow, sweetheart. I wish everyone could just see each other's souls. Beauty is innocence and sweetness and kindness and generosity. Nothing else matters. So stop trying so hard._ As always, he had been so right.

Today, though, was different. Today she would be going home, where there would be fifty people celebrating JJ's first birthday. Today, she would tell Frank that the time was coming where he would be a daddy again in two days' time. She wanted it to be special. So she had asked her mom to bring her makeup and perfume, to pick a cute little maternity outfit, but it had to be red, as Frank always loved her in that color. And here she was, in an ankle-length, flowy, red maternity dress, hair back in a chignon, wearing the jewelry she always had: her wedding rings and the necklace and bracelet Frank had given her on their wedding and first anniversary, knowing another charm would be added to the bracelet as soon as baby #2 was born. She also wore a beautiful ruby ring on her right hand that Johnny had given her when he had gotten his first big paycheck, telling her that she was his precious jewel and to wear it with love.

She knew what was important now more than ever before, knew what her convictions were, what really mattered in the grand scheme of things. Survive, yes, but thrive. _Thank you, Johnny. Thank you, Frank._

"Callie?" Joe said softly. "It's time to go, sis."

Today would be a surprise. Only her mom and Joe knew that she was coming. No one knew that she had started labor, that her back and stomach ached, that it was hard for her to walk very far on her weak legs, having had no real opportunity to do so for months. None of that mattered, though. Today, her baby was turning one.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said, more softly than she intended to.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smile. "Come on. I can't wait to see how surprised Frank is going to be!"

He helped her into the wheelchair which she had to use to leave, even temporarily. "You're going to be here with Vanessa in two months," she reminded him, as she watched him get a little teary-eyed at the thought.

He knelt beside the chair, so he could meet her eyes. "I'm gonna be a dad, Cal," he said, still in awe. "How crazy is that?"

"Joe," she said honestly, having no idea where the words came from, 'if you are half as good a father as you are a son, brother, and friend, that child may just be the luckiest kid on earth." She awkwardly leaned forward and squeezed his hand with one hand while she mussed his hair with the other. 'I love you."

'I love _you,_ " he replied, wiping away a tear that had escaped.

They looked at each other for a moment, a rare instance in which there was no teasing, just a pure energy that connected two people who cared for each other deeply, and no more needed be said. He stood, squeezed her shoulder, and then started pushing the chair. It was time to go.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Frank

 _April 23rd_

Frank stepped back from the new minivan he had purchased and in which he had just finished installing both car seats, crossing his arms and smiling. The feeling of being a dad of two was well worth the merciless teasing he had endured from Joe and Phil and his own father- hell, _everyone_ \- when he had purchased the van. But what could he do? Kids took up a lot of space, and they required a lot of stuff. He and Callie still had their other cars; he still had his motorcycle, and he couldn't wait to take that for a spin in a few months, just him and Callie. But not now. Now, he was a husband and daddy, and his heart felt full and complete, filled with more love than he ever thought possible.

He heard a noise behind him, and saw JJ clinging to Callie's hand, half running, half walking to him, and he turned around. "Daddy! Car!" he pointed, and Frank picked him up and kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, daddy- or should I call you _grandpa_ with this thing," Callie teased him.

He didn't care. Holding JJ with one arm, he wrapped the other around his wife and pulled her close. "Tease all you want," he replied, tenderly, kissing her forehead. "Today we're going to have both our babies home together, and nothing you can say can put me in a bad mood."

"We still have one whole week before S-E-X," she spelled out, teasing him, wrapping her arms around his waist and, standing on tiptoe, kissing his neck.

"Ugh," he managed, trying to maintain his decorum in front of his son, who was now pointing to the car. "Except for maybe that."

"Hey Jonathan," Frank said, periodically using JJ's full name. "Want to try out your seat in the car?" he asked, temporarily ignoring Callie and the surprised look she shot him.

"Car, daddy! Daddy, car!" JJ pointed, so excited.

Frank laughed, released Callie for a moment, and took out his keys and the automatic door opener. He lifted JJ inside and watched for a few minutes as JJ crawled and fell and walked all over as if the van was the greatest play kingdom in the world. Frank lifted him up after a bit, put him in his car seat, and handed him Duck 1 and Duck 2, which he had neatly waiting for him. "Daddy needs to talk to mommy, okay?" he said, keeping the door open and slowly stepping back. "I'm right here, buddy. Be right back." JJ went on playing.

Frank turned quickly, and, taking her completely by surprise, wrapped Callie in his arms, pushed her gently against the van, and kissed her passionately, not bothering to hold back, outside or not.

He held her immobile, kissing her lips, then neck, then huskily whispering in her ear his exact, detailed, long- considered plans for next week, full of desire as his hands roamed urgently. He felt her melt against him, moaning softly, and, then... he stopped just as suddenly as he started, pulled away, and caught his breath. He blew her a kiss and winked at her, returning to JJ at once to check on him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Callie, so beautiful, completely flushed and breathing hard. He saw her laugh at him, and herself, then head into the house, fanning her face hard to collect herself and get her bearings. She headed inside to get what they would need on the way to the hospital, where they would get their baby from the NIC-U finally and make their family complete.

He let JJ walk around the van again as he tried to think of ice showers, cold water, Joe naked… anything that would be completely unappealing. But he had to smile. Life was good. It was great, actually. It was fun to be himself again, feeling more real and strangely more free than before. Things were solid with Joe, as he had learned from his terrible mistake, knew the value he had in his relationship with his brother and promising never to take it for granted. It was fun seeing his friends again, and it made him treasure each moment with his own beautiful babies- his life- so much more.

Counseling sessions HAD helped. Reliving the nightmare of what had happened to Callie had been terrifying, as he had to face the reality of it again; had to go back to the time when had felt so hopeless and scared, unable to confide in anyone, trying not to make it worse for her by saying or doing the wrong things. Having to think of what had happened to her in detail- as only he knew- still made him sick, it always would, how people could be so evil and deranged. He'd be dealing with the consequences of that night for the rest of his life, and having an outlet to work through his complex and confusing jumble of emotions was proving to be cathartic. He was gaining to tools to help himself, and, in turn, to help Callie properly, if and when she ever revisited it. He knew now that she, too, had her coping mechanisms, some of which were healthy and some not, but he had to allow her to make her own mistakes and to create her own survival strategies. She was the victim, the survivor- but he could only create a safety net if his core was strong and solid. Therapy was allowing him to start to patch the gaping holes.

He had suppressed his feelings for so long that, when this nightmare of a year had begun, his own rage and horror had manifested in such a fierce need to protect Callie at all costs that he had actually crippled her; crippled himself. Even now, when he thought about it, he still knew that he needed to talk to his parents again; to her parents, too. He owed them all an apology for expecting them to accept that behavior not knowing the source of its pain, the same thing he and Callie had done to Joe unconsciously. With his mother, in particular, he'd made mistakes, and he would work hard to remedy them. Their talk on New Year's Eve had been a good start, but it wasn't enough. And he would encourage Callie to open up a bit more as well, as much as she felt she could. It would always be a hard line for the both of them to walk, to guard her past yet to be open otherwise, but they could do it. After all, Joe had shown him that people just needed the smallest bit of reassurance; not the whole story.

But he was getting there. And though he still believed that the literal best feeling in the world was holding his wife and babies close, he was learning that real, true love sometimes meant letting go. He knew that fact meant helping Callie by letting her live her own life, and they'd both grown tremendously from it. Certainly, it was the struggle all parents faced, too: love your babies so fiercely that you know they can thrive without you. And finally, he'd learned that everyone needed help sometimes, even him.

And he'd grown and learned so much about his wife. She was the absolute bravest, strongest, most incredible person he had ever known, and he had learned to trust her again to take care of herself, though it was one the hardest things he had ever done. He finally learned that he couldn't protect her from everything, though he would try, but that he COULD be there when life did not deal gently with her. To say he loved her would not even scratch the surface. That realization had reignited a passion that had never really waned, but the occasional times apart had made him want her more than he thought possible, had allowed him to think of ways to romance her and seduce her and show her how love could come in so many forms. Thinking about it made his mind wander again. Damn.

Maybe there was time for that quick cold shower after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He met his in-laws inside the hospital. "We'll be down and ready within an hour, and then you guys can come back to the house with Joe and Vanessa and my parents. Thanks for helping with JJ," he said to them.

His father -in -law smiled and lifted his grandson from Frank's arms. "Papa!" JJ babbled.

"Stop," Robert Shaw said with a smile. "Jonathan and I have some serious exploring to do around here. Right, kiddo?" He kissed JJ's head. "How did the minivan drive? Did you go over 40 miles per hour?" he asked Frank innocently, turning to him.

"You, too, huh?" Frank replied with a sigh, but then laughed. "Listen, dad, I'm sure I won't be driving over 40 with two babies, anyway. But maybe if you're lucky, later I'll take you for a joy ride around the neighborhood, pump a little bass and some Snoop Dogg…"

Callie started laughing as her dad looked at Frank questioningly.

"What's a Snoop Dog? Is that like Snoopy?" he asked, completely oblivious.

"Fo-shizzle," Frank replied, deadpanned, which made Callie laugh even harder as both of her parents stared at them.

"We ARE in a hospital," Callie's father replied, dryly. "I think mental health facilities are on the third floor."

Frank smiled and patted his arm. "We'll be back soon." He reached for Callie's hand and they made their way to the NIC-U.

Right outside the door, Frank felt her pause. "Are you okay, honey?" he asked. He was so excited about today; couldn't wait to hold his little girl in his arms.

She looked up at him, her chocolate eyes watery. "This is it, babe," she said softly. "Finally."

He hugged her to him, rubbing her back. "I know," he replied. He kissed her nose as as he gazed at her. "Somehow we became 27, have 2 kids, a house, and now a minivan." He was teasing, but there was a veracity to his words. "Not quite 15 and footloose and fancy free."

"But better," she replied, reaching up to touch his cheek. "We're parents," she went on, almost incredulously, "two times over." The weight of it all was overwhelming. She wasn't supposed to have been able to have children; she'd almost lost them both. But they were here, and they were _theirs_.

"Two angels," Frank answered, kissing her hand. "They're our miracle babies. Let Joe and Van have the ten kids." Callie had barely survived, yet had given him such perfection, such joy, such beauty in his babies. _Their_ babies, babies who they'd never even thought would or could be here. His heart was overflowing with gratitude.

He looked into her eyes for a moment, knowing how blessed they were. These children who were never supposed to have been born, according to every prediction, had made it; and they were his world. The truth was, though, that another pregnancy would probably kill Callie, and his babies needed a mommy and he needed his wife far more than they would need another child, as sweet as that idea was. Between the horrible internal scarring from her attack so many years ago, and her anemia and placenta issues, there was almost no way she could carry a pregnancy again, if she could even conceive. So they'd made the painful, but correct decision, to have a tubal ligation after Callie's C-section. Unless they decided to have the procedure surgically reversed, they would have no more children ever. But that was okay, because they had two more than they ever thought they would be able to, and their family was complete and beautiful.

"Thank you for marrying me," Callie managed, out of the blue, "and for loving me, even for all those years we never thought we could have children."

Frank, stunned at her admission, took her in his arms. "Stop that," he whispered, emotional. "Don't you _ever_ think that again. My God," he went on, stroking her face tenderly, "Callie, I never made love with you because I wanted a child. I wanted a child because I love you. And if we never had a baby, then I still would have been fulfilled, because you are the greatest love I have ever known." He leaned down and kissed her slowly and deeply. "Please know that."

"Let's get our daughter," she said, blinking back tears, as she wrapped her arm around his waist, and he couldn't have agreed with that simple, lovely idea any more. No words needed to be spoken.

A half an hour later, Callie was finishing filling out the paperwork as he held his baby girl, staring at her symmetry, her absolute perfection, eyes filled with love. She had been as tiny as JJ when she had been born, just three and a half pounds, but now she was 6 pounds, 5 ounces, as beautiful as her mother, as majestic as anything he had ever seen.

He picked her up and held her against his chest, feeling his eyes fill with tears as he realized how much he loved this little baby and her brother. But this little one, he knew, would be his weakness, his Kryptonite. She already had him wrapped around her tiny fingers. He vowed to protect her with his life, prayed that she would have her mommy's courage and strength without ever experiencing the unfathomable pain that Callie had been through to get there. He loved her with a love so fierce it consumed him- his miraculous little girl.

"I have the official birth certificate," Callie said softly as she sat briefly next to him. "Look," she said, opening it for him. "Laurissa Viola Hardy, a big name for a little girl."

"She'll fill her name," he said, voice somewhat shaky. "She's named after 4 of the 5 strongest women I know." He touched her knee with his free hand. Y _es, she was. Laurissa, named for both of her grandmothers, Laura and Melissa. And Viola, a fitting combination of Callie's two best friends, Vanessa and Iola. It was perfect. Like her._

"Come on, sweetheart," she prodded him as she stood. "Let's get Laurie home. She has a whole houseful of company waiting to see her, and a big brother who thinks he'll be having a really cool little toy to play with."

He nodded, cradling the baby against him with both arms as he leaned over to kiss Callie tenderly. She had changed his life immeasurably, changed his spirit, mindset, soul. She had made him understand what his convictions truly were, how love was all that mattered. If life was a series of stages, and a person played his part well at different times, learned to discover what he was and what he stood for, ultimately, a full, whole person emerged. That's what had happened with him. It was a fitting thought, he realized, on this, Shakespeare's birthday, as one man, in his time, did, indeed, play many parts.*

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Vanessa

May 7th

"Oh my gosh… it hurts," Vanessa moaned. "I can't do this!" She was in very active labor at Bayport General Hospital and caught between screaming for help and wishing for unconsciousness.

"You'll be okay, baby. You _can_ do this!" Joe encouraged her, rubbing her back.

"No I can't…" she managed.

"Yes, you can," Callie replied dryly. "You have no choice at this point, Van."

Vanessa covered her eyes with her hands, willing the pain, which came in waves more and more frequently, to just go away. She had only been in labor for about four hours when the contractions started getting really bad. To pass the time, she had asked that her mom, Callie, Frank, Fenton, and Laura visit with her and Joe, though, when the time came for her to actually give birth, she had just requested that just her mom and Joe be in the room, which everyone had graciously accepted.

"It hurts! You didn't warn me," she said, glaring at Callie, not caring if she was making any sense. "I need the epidural or I think I might die." She fought tears.

When she looked up again, she saw Joe looking distraught as Callie held his hand and talked to him. He was gone in 30 seconds, leaving only Callie with her for the time being.

"Van?" Callie said soothingly, taking her hand. "Joe is getting the doctor and I'm sure you'll get the epidural soon. Try to relax, honey. I know it hurts, but you're going to have the most beautiful baby in a few hours. Think of that. Your mom will be back in five minutes and then we'll just leave the three of you." She squeezed her hand. "Did you like the shower?" Callie asked her, and Vanessa was grateful for the distraction.

"It was gorgeous. Thank you. Evan will be the most spoiled baby ever," she said, again fighting tears as she thought of it. Callie had gone above and beyond, even with Laurissa in the hospital and herself not fully healed, to make sure that she had a baby shower, felt the love and support from family and friends that made this time even more special. And she had done it all for her, having had no baby shower ever for herself. Vanessa took a moment to reflect upon how lucky she was to have Callie as her selfless best friend.

Callie laughed as she held her hand. "I don't know. JJ and Laurie are pretty close in the spoiled department. And if I haven't told you, I love the baby's name. I think Frank was pretty choked up, too, when he heard it."

Vanessa found herself smiling. "It's nice, right? A strong name- Evan Frank Hardy. Joe said he definitely wanted a name with "Van" in it, as long as the next kid has some sort of Joe," she said with a chuckle. "Plus, the middle name was a given. Come on."

She was surprised when Callie blinked away tears. "Nothing's a GIVEN," she replied with a smile. "And I cannot tell you how much it meant to Frank."

"Good," Vanessa replied, happy that their decision had been so meaningful to Frank, with whom she had grown so much closer in the last year. "He's a good guy."

"He is," Callie replied softly.

"Oh!" Vanessa went on, holding Callie's hand for dear life as another contraction hit her. When she caught her breath, she added, "Joe thinks it'll be funny to tell Chief Collig that the first initial of Evan's name is after him. He thinks it'll completely throw him."

Callie rubbed her hand. "You know, Van, Joe might be kidding, but he might not be, either. You never know with him. Tell him to be serious about that, though. A name is- it's important." Her eyes shone with sincerity.

Before the conversation could continue, a doctor and Joe came into the room with a table prepped with the epidural needle. Callie gracefully bowed out, blowing her a final kiss and squeezing Joe's arm on the way out.

After filling out the forms, the brief procedure started, and Vanessa clung to Joe's hand as she fought her fear of needles and the contractions at the same time. An hour later, Vanessa felt so much better, and she was cuddled with Joe on the hospital bed, enjoying this rare time alone as everyone headed to dinner.

She felt his arms around her, and leaned back against him.

"You're doing great, babe," he told her. "I'm sorry I can't help more. I feel useless," he admitted as he leaned in for a small kiss.

"I'm just glad that part is done," she confessed, contented in his arms. "I just saw the size of it and I had no idea it could be that big."

"You're talking about the needle, right?" he asked, deadpanned, and, when she got it, she burst out laughing. "You'll never know," she giggled. This was her Joe, joking and laughing to cope with his nervousness, trying to put her at ease, always putting others before himself.

"I mean, I can't say that I haven't…" he started, but she cut him off. "Like I said, you'll never know."

"Van," he said, suddenly serious, and she looked up at him, his deep blue eyes bright with tears. "We are going to be parents. Us. It's so hard to believe."

She felt her heart beat a little harder.

"I love you so much," he said, quietly, tucking a strand of her ash blonde hair behind her ear. "You are the … I don't have the words, babe, but I'll try… the center of my world?" He kissed her nose. "Damnit. I wish you could just see my heart now," he managed. "Cause all you'd see is your own reflection."

Vanessa felt her heart stop as her own eyes filled with tears again. He was so sweet and sincere and kind and authentic, and far more romantic than he ever knew. He was gazing at her with such love and intensity, his eyes the perfect window to his soul.

He had taught her so much about kindness and generosity, and had made her realize that her beliefs and convictions were inexorably intertwined with his. Their relationship had seen many stages, but she knew the best was yet to come.

Instinctively, she took his hand and placed it on her belly, placed her own hand on top of his. In moments, his whole face lit up as he felt the baby kick with abandon. "Daddy can't wait to meet you," he said to her tummy, gently rubbing it. He kept his hand there, the other arm wrapped firmly around her, and she felt, simply, like she was home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Joe

July 4th

Joe stretched his full frame as he sat back on the lounge chair in Frank and Callie's backyard. Since they had bought the house several years ago, even with all of the chaos of cases and children and life, they had made numerous upgrades, and Frank and Callie never skimped on quality. He was now enjoying the new pool they had recently opened, and, with their huge backyard that somehow Frank had managed to keep perfectly manicured, it was a picture perfect setting for what promised to be an amazing day.

In a few hours, all of their friends and family would be coming to enjoy a huge BBQ, and he and Frank, along with Chet and Biff, would all be splitting cooking duties, with the women already having made tons of side dishes and desserts. Fenton and Laura were already here, Fenton scrutinizing the best location for extra seating and Laura setting up games in the back.

But for now, he watched with a smile, tenderness filling his heart, at Vanessa fussing over Laurie's adorable flower swimsuit and Callie lifting Evan and kissing him repeatedly. They were both still so little and precious- Laurie at 4 months and Evan at 2 months. Evan and JJ were 14 months apart, exactly the age gap between him and Frank. Life was coming full circle. He couldn't believe his life could get any better.

Then it did.

Frank walked over with JJ, who was now 16 months and the spitting image of Frank. He was also, and had been since he was born, Joe's littlest best buddy.

"Someone wanted to see you," Frank said, simply, holding JJ's hand, and Joe immediately extended his arms, which JJ crawled right into.

"Hi Unca Joe!" he said happily, and Joe gave him a big hug and kiss as Frank smiled, eyes warm with love and pride.

"Hey, Buddy!" Joe said with a smile. "High five!"

JJ put down his sippy cup and hit Joe's hand, laughing.

"All right! Awesome!" Joe replied. "Whoa! Look at those muscles!" he said to him, touching JJ's arm over his swim top. "I think you might be as strong as me. What do you think?" He held onto JJ with one arm and flexed his other arm while Frank rolled his eyes.

JJ started laughing again. "Silly Unca Joe!"

"He sure is," Frank replied dryly.

"Wanna race, JJ?" Joe asked. "You're too big for the crawl off now, but we could totally have a run off or hop off or- well, I guess we COULD crawl off. You're never too old, right?!" He gave JJ another hug. "I would soooo beat you."

JJ laughed. "Race later," he said, cuddling with Joe.

"Should we race _daddy_ later?" Joe asked, smiling at him. "What did I teach you to tell daddy about challenging me to anything? Go on..." he encouraged.

JJ continued to laugh and looked at Frank. "Daddy, you going down!"

"Yeah! Great job!" Joe said, laughing too, as Frank shook his head at both his brother and his son.

"Pool"- JJ said, pointing to the water.

Joe smiled. "Uh, Heck YEAH, J!" He stood up with him.

"Daddy!" JJ said, eyes bright.

Frank groaned. "Jonathan, mommy is going to get mad at me. She asked me to straighten up. What if mommy yells at me?"

"Mommy nice," JJ said, and Joe chuckled.

"Okay. I'll be in there in a few minutes."

" _Now,_ Daddy," JJ insisted.

Frank sighed, shrugged, and, resigned, a mischievous look in his eyes, jumped right into the pool, and Joe started laughing.

"Here's your kid!" Joe yelled as he tossed JJ through the air to Frank's awaiting arms, much to his delight and Callie's horror.

"Joe!" he heard her yell across the yard, hand on her chest.

"We got him, sis! Stop worrying!" he yelled back, blew her a kiss, and jumped in as well.

After a half hour where he and Frank were playing with JJ, who was practically squealing with delight, Callie jogged over. "Okay, boys," she said with a smile, "I think someone needs a little nap before the company arrives." She knelt by the pool's edge.

"I'm not THAT tired," Joe teased her.

Callie reached down and splashed him. "Give me my son, please, Joseph."

"No, mommy!" JJ cried.

Callie sighed. "I think he's starting the 'no' phase early. Come on- _up_. You and Frank have fun."

Reluctantly, Joe handed JJ over, missing him already, as JJ looked like he was going to cry. There was something about that kid that was so special. Maybe it was the fact that he was a miracle baby, like his sister; maybe it was all the expectations that came with being a first born child; mostly, it probably, he had to admit, had to do with the fact that it was like living his childhood with Frank all over again. But he adored that kid- he always would.

"You don't need help?" Frank asked, and Callie shook her head.

"Have fun," she encouraged him, holding onto JJ's hand.

Despite her order, Joe watched as his brother hopped out of the pool and grabbed a towel for JJ, picking him up and handing him to Callie. He bent down and kissed her, with a little more enthusiasm than Joe was used to seeing from his brother.

"I'll be out in a half hour," he reminded her. "Love you." He returned to the pool, smiling.

Joe leaned back against the side of the pool. "This is the life, bro," he said, content.

"Yeah, it is," Frank responded, wading next to him.

"This is a busy month for you. The Fourth today, your birthday next week, and then your anniversary. Excited for round three in Bermuda?" he couldn't help but ask. They had decided to make the trip annually on his and Vanessa's anniversary, and he was a little more excited than he cared to admit about going away with just his wife, brother, and sister in law and their children. While it wouldn't be quiet, it would be peaceful, and the more time he spent with Frank, the closer they became. He loved that.

"Sure I am!" Frank answered. "Of course."

"We'll have a belated birthday party there for you," Joe went on, happily. "You are so freaking OLD! 28?"

"It's the best time of my life," Frank responded, simply, not joking back, and Joe felt himself get more serious, too.

"I know what you mean." He put a hand gently on Frank's shoulder, and Frank turned to him. Joe felt himself getting a little emotional.

"Are you crying?" Frank asked, teasing him.

"Pff," Joe huffed. "Damned chlorine."

"Yeah- I have to check on that," Frank answered, dryly. "What's on your mind, other than the PH balance of the water?"

Joe took a deep breath. He turned and swam to the opposite side of the pool, and Frank followed, waiting. Joe had to smile. His brother was infinitely patient. He met his eyes, deciding to be honest.

"Look at this," he said, quietly. He spread his arms out. "Frank, we're growing up. It's surreal. We're DADS. We're married with kids. We live in the suburbs. We're almost 30. When did this happen?"

"Don't worry, Joe," Frank replied. "There's hope for you yet. You don't own a minivan."

Joe snorted despite himself. "That's true."

Frank threw an arm around his shoulders affectionately. "But you do have a golden-doodle, so that may even us out."

Joe laughed. "That's a semi-valid point," he admitted. Then, he found himself rambling a bit, as though he needed to talk to his brother more than he even thought he did. "I was thinking," he began. "So much has happened to us. It made me realize what's important to me."

"Okay," Frank encouraged him.

"I know what my convictions are now," he said to him, completely sincerely, needing Frank to know. "I want our kids to be best friends, like we always were. I want us to feel a little like kids, too. I know that if anything ever happened to me, that you'd take care of Evan and Van, because you know I'd do the same for Callie and JJ and Laurie."

"I know," Frank said quietly, squeezing his shoulder. "Of course I would."

"And I want you to know that I've had so much fun with you again. I… I missed you," Joe found himself saying, voice unexpectedly tight. "You've taught me so much, Frank. I know I've told you this before, but I'm sorry for this last case. I will never let anyone break our bond again, and I'll never put a person or circumstance before you- or your family- again."

"It's done," Frank answered him, and Joe noted he looked a little emotional as well. "I was wrong, too. I took out my own issues on you, blamed you for something over which you had no control. I lost my logic; you lost your instinct. I will never let you be on your own again."

Frank coughed, and Joe couldn't help but ask, "Chlorine?"

"Obviously," Frank answered with a small laugh.

"I love your kids," Joe said seriously. "And I will do my best to guide them through all of the stages of their life, and I know you'll do the same for Evan."

"And your 9 other kids," Frank joked.

"We may cut it to 7," he answered with a laugh.

"Then you'll need the minivan," Frank quipped. "It's all fun and games until…"

"Until the other kids and the golden-doodle. I get it," he said, feeling a twinkle in his eyes. "But I can't do it. I'm not that dorky. It's not in me to be so uncool."

Frank smacked him.

Joe laughed as he propped himself onto the ledge of the pool. "Come on. I'll help you get ready for tonight." He reached down and offered Frank his hand. As they exited the pool and started to dry off, he felt a need to tell his brother something. "Hey, Frank?" he asked.

"I know, Joe," Frank answered. "I love you, too."

"I was going to say that I still can't believe how old you're getting," he joked, and, at once, he felt himself being shoved back into the pool, creating a huge splash when he landed.

When he resurfaced, he caught sight of Frank. "This old man can still kick your ass," Frank replied with a wink.

Joe shook his head… and smiled.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The day had been busy and fun, chaotic and full of wonder. All of their friends and family had gathered together to celebrate life, new beginnings, a separation from the past and the promise of the future. It was an independence day in the truest sense.

As everyone prepared to light sparklers to signify their hope and happiness, it was easy to measure the abundance of joy.

Joe held his son, who filled him with more joy that he could have imagined, as he sat next to Vanessa, who was resting her head on his shoulder.

Biff had just told him, only minutes ago, that he was planning on proposing to his girlfriend, finally, since "none of his friends were any damned fun any more and he might as well have someone make an honest man out of him." His words were joking, but Joe could tell that he wanted his approval, and Joe had hugged him tightly, wished him the best of luck, and told him he loved him. And Biff, for once, had been serious and told him the same.

Pat was already engaged now to his girlfriend, and he had asked Joe to stand up with him at his own wedding.

Joe had a feeling that there would be much fun and reason for celebrating over the next few years with his friends who had very much become his family.

He looked around at everyone gathered, and felt blessed. His parents, Andrea, the Shaws, the Mortons, so many people who had offered him and his brother unconditional love and support.

He snuck a glance at Chief Collig, who was there with his whole family, and remembered when he had told him who the "E" in Evan stood for. He had listened to Callie's words, and she had been right: names were special and precious, and, truth be told, why shouldn't his son, in part, be named for a man who was brave and honorable? And when Collig had realized he hadn't been joking for once, he'd gotten choked up and had said, simply, "That's real nice, Joe." Though he hadn't said a word more, Joe did not fail to notice that he was suddenly dropping by a lot more often, sharing old stories and life lessons. And Joe had really begun to look forward to them, finally starting to see just why he and his dad had been best friends for so many years.

As he cradled Evan in one arm and stroked Vanessa's hair with his free hand, he looked at his own best friend not 50 feet away.

As if he could sense it, Frank looked up at him. He had been sitting with Callie on the two person swinging rocker on the deck, one arm firmly around her, the other holding his precious baby girl. Callie had JJ on her lap, and both kids had fallen asleep. His eyes had been closed momentarily, as he made it a point to be present, almost overwhelmed by the fact that his whole world was in his arms. He'd leaned down, manipulating past JJ and Laurie, to kiss Callie, slowly, tenderly, and, when she had looked up at him, eyes bright, cheeks slightly flushed, his heart melted. He loved his family so much.

He let his mind wander, contemplative and respectful of the past, but excited for the future. All the puzzles, the history, the literature, the spaces, the stages of conviction that the cases had revealed… they had made him… had made his brother… had made _all_ of them stronger.

A was for ancestry. B for brother. C for children. He had come to understand that you could write your own story, create your own meaning for things, and that it was just as easy to paint that picture, to write that story, with a happy ending instead of a nightmare.

There would always be bad people, bad things, and bad circumstances, but for every cowardly Cotnig there was a clever Collig; for every traitorous Grant or Rangers, a heroic and loyal Johnny. Yes, for every David and Alan Cotnig, there was a Frank and Joe Hardy.

He made eye contact with his little brother and winked, and Joe nodded back, a smile of understanding and peace on his face.

It would always be them, an unbreakable force of love and loyalty.

Together.

*Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II, scene Vii

 **Author's musings:**

 _Writing is a labor of love, and it's hard to believe that this story has come to an end. As with most writing, I started out with one idea and ended up with something different, and I have learned much in the process._

 _I cannot underscore enough the role that feedback and commentary has in an author's life. Taking the time to review makes an absolute world of difference, and often can influence a story. It certainly inspires and motivates authors more than you know. To that end..._

 _I wanted to thank Moon in Scorpio for the ideas about Frank's therapy and the future children in Callie and Frank's life and for making me think hard about the little details of my story. My gratitude always extends to my writing partner in other series, Red Hardy, who gave me the idea for the little paragraph about Frank revisiting Laura. I get it- you made excellent points and swayed me. ;) Thank you for your detailed reviews, which I'll always treasure. You are an invaluable support system and I am grateful to call you my friend. The whole story would not have been written without the advice of the immensely talented TinDog, who encouraged me to take risks when I would ask "I'm scared to do this, but..." and who gave me the most amazing reviews ever. Paulina Ann and hbndgirl were delightful in discussing ideas and the writing process. If you have not read their stories, please do. They're wonderful!_

 _Fanfiction has proven, for me, to be an effective vehicle to home my writing skills, experiment, and learn. Plus, it's a great support system and, honestly, just darned fun. So thank you a MILLION times to those of you who have stuck with the series and who have really influenced and supported me in many ways through your feedback and PMs on this story: Andrea, BeeBee18, bhar, BMSH, Caranath, Erin Jordan, EvergreenDreamweaver, Fenlaur, Guests (various), hbndgirl, Hero 76, hlahabibty, Laurie Q, Moon in Scorpio, max 2013, Paulina Ann, Penlew, Red Hardy, sm2003495, SnowPrincess 88, Tin Dog, & ulstergirl. Forgive me if I missed a name. Every one of your comments is appreciated, whether you left one or commented on every chapter. To those who read or followed, thank you for your time! And, if anyone reads this story in the future and leaves a comment, it will be appreciated as well._

 _P.S. I'm not done with this series, yet. Forthcoming in mid to late September, probably, is a story called "Civil Skirmishes". It's in the same universe, but flashes back in time to when Joe and Frank are in college, 20 and 21 years old, respectively. That story has the boys facing a lot of personal issues, and is my first more Joe-centric story. A little sneak peak: In addition to the mysteries, at its heart, it's a story about Joe growing up, having to reconcile the ghosts of his past as he tries to move on with his future. I tried to tackle the following issues: How did Joe get over Iola and commit to Vanessa? How did Joe reconcile his changed friendship with Chet Morton? Just how did Callie and Joe go from enemies to close friends? And finally, there's a good dose of Frank and Callie as they privately try to work out their own relationship as she deals with the effects of her attack and his own insecurities and guilt. As usual, light and fluffy stuff. (eye roll). If you're interested, I do hope you'll look for it! :)_

 _After that, who knows? I have a kinda, sorta, maybe idea that would follow "The Stages of Conviction" directly. Whether that idea ever meets the paper (computer?!) is another question altogether. And Red Hardy and I are trying to get our act together and work on another joint effort, and it's always a pleasure to work with her._

 _Thank you so much for your support! In gratitude,_

 _Cheryl_


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